


Lightning Dragon's Roar.

by ZeroRewind



Category: Devil May Cry, Fairy Tail, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate SG-1, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: 4chan, F/M, Internet, gamer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroRewind/pseuds/ZeroRewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry takes inspiration from a manga called Fairy Tail, as well as the great creation we call "The Internet". What follows is a different path taken. A path of strife, rebellion, and above all, power. Welcome to the New Age. Timeline moved to the 2010s. Eventual X-over with Devil May Cry 3, Stargate: SG-1 and Dresden Files.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

People have been telling me that this site is the best thing since sliced bread; so I figured I'd move my story here to see how it goes.

Written in the first person point of view. Just thought to let you know before you dove in :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo**   
**Lightning Dragon's Roar**   
**A Harry Potter Fanfiction**   
**By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2015**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 1 : Dudley's Apology**

 

"Shit!" I bit out through gritted teeth, before sucking on my index finger in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. I was outside, weeding the garden on dear Aunt Petunia's orders- I mean at her request, of course. As per the usual course, the neighbours would pass by and glower at me for daring to look so scruffy in my clothes that are a few sizes too big for me.

'I swear, I'll never understand these people's obsession with normalcy, and looking proper. Do they expect me to wear a tux to dig my hands into the dirt to pull out these stupid weeds?' I thought to myself.

Which reminded me; a few more of these weeds left and I was done for the day. Then I could go rest up.

At least, I could've done that if it weren't for the stupid nightmares. Most of my nights have been restless. I'd wake up at random points of the night, feeling like shit. It's usually the same kind of dream, with variations here and there. One thing was always certain, though.

Cedric would die or was already dead in every one.

Now, you may think: "died or was already dead? What could you possibly mean?"

Well, my good man, I'd be quite happy to explain that to you, since my friends have been blowing me off all summer, sending me inane replies like "we can't tell you because it's secret", "we can't talk about you-know-what right now, stay safe", and my personal favorite, "we're quite busy but I can't give you details". I asked for assistance and they refused to share the sorely needed information, writing letters that made me feel like they're lording it over me. I only wanted to know what Voldemort was doing. Was that too much to ask for? The whole situation infuriated me.

'Everyone's so quick to keep information from me. If Remus had talked to me about Sirius' possible innocence, the whole situation that night could've been resolved.' I thought to myself. Hindsight was 20/20, I reminded myself. I just wished they would trust me more. All they did was push me away, thinking I was fragile and can't handle it. Only Sirius seemed to treat me as an equal; sucks that he's a fugitive.

But I digress. Where was I, again?

Ah, yes. You see, my tentative friend and fellow Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory, was killed last June during the Third Task. Wormtail— curse that rat to the ninth level of hell itself— did the deed, and then resurrected Voldemort himself. Remember that disembodied spirit that made Quirrell its bitch a few years back? It was the very same one. However, now it had an actual body. Voldemort was revived, but let's not get into that subject just yet.

On to the matter at hand. I've been having nightmares centering around Cedric's death. Sometimes the nightmare's simplistic. Cedric and I arrive to that wretched graveyard, and I watch the Killing Curse take him away from the land of the living. I stare at his blank and expressionless eyes for an eternity, before I wake up in a cold sweat.

Think that's bad? Sometimes, my nightmares become more creative. I could be in the Great Hall, having a simple lunch with Ron and Hermione, and Cedric would come by to speak to me about the second task, but something's off. Cedric's mouth isn't moving, yet I can hear his voice. I look into his eyes, and yet again I see those accursed blank eyes, haunting me. My mind can tell something is wrong, but I keep on talking to the floating, dead Hufflepuff, staring at me with those unblinking eyes. Then, all of a sudden, he'd latch on to me, with wide eyes and face almost pressed up to mine. His breath would smell rotten.

"Why didn't you save me?" He would ask, and I would wake up in my room, head pounding.

So to keep my mind off of my problems, I did an extraordinary amount of chores. I'd also been listening to the news, and reading every newspaper I could find to keep busy. Perhaps there would be a hint of Voldemort's comings and goings in the Muggle news. Perhaps an unexplained storm, or some disaster. In any case, it was helping me keep busy, and forget about Cedric for a while. My friends certainly weren't taking my mind off of it, and I didn't have anyone to talk to at Casa de Dursley. The Dursleys weren't exactly a loving family, if you catch my drift.

In fact, they're quite terrible people. For the first ten years of my life, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs, you see. I had to learn how to cook and clean for them because I had to "pull my weight around the house". I wasn't too well-fed, but they never deliberately starved me. They didn't physically abuse me either. Most of the things they did to me was petty at best. They spread rumors about me being a hooligan who attended a school for incurably criminal children. What was the name again? St-Brutus, or something.

All things considered, it could've been much worse. It didn't excuse their behavior, however, and I hate them for it. Once I was of age, I'd leave them behind forever, never looking back.

I quietly prepared a sandwich in the kitchen, and headed to my room, intending on getting some much needed sleep. Petunia and Vernon were out, doing something or the other. Never really cared to ask. Not that they cared to tell.

I ambled up the stairs, absently munching at the chicken sandwich that I made, before passing by Dudley's room. The ponce wasn't in there. I got to my room, and saw him quietly closing my door. My eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My, my," I said, making the not-so-fat boy— boy, was that surprising when I laid eyes on him this summer— jump in surprise at being caught. He absently switched into a fighting stance, before slightly relaxing when he saw it was me. Looks like that boxing thing was paying off. "What have we here?"

"P-Potter!" Dudley looked frightened for a second, before quickly switching to a cool look. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" I replied incredulously, advancing. My wand was already out. "You just left my room, all quiet like. Take a guess at what I want to know."

He visibly paled at the sight of the wand. "Y-You can't use that outside of your school! You'll get expelled!" He bravely said, or at least attempted to. Sounded more like when Malfoy was crying about his "broken arm" in Third Year. I briefly wondered if Dudley would've made Slytherin, what with his similarities to Malfoy. Both of them always ran to daddy when things got tough. Both of them were spoiled brats. I shook my head, and focused on the boy in question.

"You want to try me?" I gave a savage smirk, now pointing my wand at his face. He flinched. "You want to become a full pig, this time?" I let that particular threat hang in the air for a few seconds. "Just tell me what you did."

"A-Alright, alright, Potter." Dudley squeaked out fearfully. "There was too much stuff in my room, so I took all the stuff I didn't want and threw it in yours. Happy?"

I was about to say something rather foul, but paused halfway through the first word.

"Why didn't you just throw it away?" I asked instead, half curious and half angry at what he'd done without my consent. In a roundabout way, he seemed to be giving me stuff. That wasn't possible, though. This was Dudley we were talking about. The same kid who made fun of me at every turn. The same kid who looked for excuses to get me into trouble. The same kid who bullied anyone who tried to be my friend.

"I..." He hesitated, looking around for a way out. "Look. I don't know. Maybe I gave you that stuff." He admitted, quietly. He refused to look me in the eye.

"Why?" I was genuinely confused.

"Look, just stop asking, okay?"

"The hell I will!" I spat out venomously. "All my life, you've been nothing but cruel to me. Why change now?!"

He didn't answer.

"Answer me!" I almost yelled.

"It's complicated, okay!?" Dudley exploded, surprising me. His eyes had a nice, fiery glint to them. "Maybe I had some words said to me during my school year. Maybe I took a good look at the mirror and was disgusted by what I saw!" He blurted out, his face flushed with shame.

Words escaped me after his outburst. So I thought about it, instead. True, as far as I could tell, this summer, Dudley had stopped hanging with his old crew, often hitting the gym, or disappearing for hours on end on 'dates'. At first, I thought he was just messing around with his mates, but now..

"I- What-" I attempted to speak but couldn't concentrate. I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"What brought this on?" I finally asked.

"I..." Dudley said unsurely. "I met this girl during the school year. We talked a bit, she seemed pretty cool to me, you know?"

I nodded, not really believing Dudley was sharing this with me. "Go on."

"Right, well I thought she was cool, but a lot of other students didn't like her because she was so good at her studies and a looker to boot. By other students, I mean the female population. Rest of us mates liked what we saw." Dudley chuckled mirthlessly. "I noticed the girls would play pranks on her. Thought they were harmless, really. But then I caught her crying in an empty hallway."

Dudley shook his head at the memory. "I don't think she saw me. But it got me thinking, you know?"

"Thinking about what?" I pressed on.

"You know, the stuff I did to you when we were kids." Dudley looked uncomfortable. "I didn't really know what it was I was doing to you, Harry. You never seemed to be affected by it. I didn't know. I just didn't know, alright!?" He sounded like he was pleading.

Half a minute ago, I'd thought he was a total jerk for trying to throw some shit in my room. Now I'm finding out that he really was feeling remorse over the things he'd done.

People can change, after all.

Sure, I'm still pissed at his treatment of me, but could I really blame him? We were both teenagers, we didn't know better. People were shaped by the environments they lived in. That's why, when most of those shootings I used to hear about as a kid happened, the people behind it had often been kids in their late teens living in poverty. They'd been lashing out at a world that treated them like garbage.

Which was why I found myself forgiving Dudley. I just hoped it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass.

"It's fine."

"W-wha?" Dudley sputtered disbelievingly.

"It's all right. Forget about it." I insisted. It was a few moments later I saw him sigh in relief, and reminded myself I needed to breathe as well.

"So, what did you put in my room?" I asked. Dudley scratched the back of his head, before entering my room once more. He beckoned me inside. I warily followed suit, still not really sure if this was all some sick joke or that Dudley was actually sorry. What I saw when I walked in beat my expectations by a mile. I figured he'd dump a bunch of stuff on my bed and leave me to sort it out.

Instead, I found a pair of headphones, and the MP3 player I'd seen Dudley use a few years back, on the bed. Dudley turned his attention to a previously empty corner of my room, which now had a desk with a computer on it. It was already turned on, showing the desktop of a "Windows XP", whatever that was.

"You can't possibly not need all of this."

"I really don't need it." Dudley disagreed with a wry grin. "I got a new computer last month, and I figured I'd give this one to you. It's not bad or anything, but mine's just better, and I wouldn't get much for the old one since it's not cutting edge any longer."

The previously fat boy took the time to show me how to use the computer. I'd used some back in primary school, so it was pretty easy to get back into it. Dudley showed me how to get on the internet, as well; said I could "learn a lot of shit" from it, both good and bad. He also showed me how to use the MP3 player, and then pointed behind my computer screen; there was a small box full of batteries to keep the music player running.

With all of that covered, Dudley apologized once more for the treatment he made me endure.

"It's fine." I rolled my eyes. "Go meet up with your girlfriend already. That's where you usually go around this time, no?"

Dudley froze, before shaking his head and leaving the room. I gave a smirk, plopped myself onto the rickety bed, and turned on the MP3 player, wondering what songs Dudley put on there. The song seemed to start partway through the song. Dudley must have paused it instead of stopping.

"I used to be the type of kid that would always think the sky is falling  
Why am I so differently wired? Am I a martian?  
What kind of twisted experiment am I involved in?  
'Cause I don't belong in this world  
That's why I'm scoffing at authority, defiant often..."

I smiled. This was going to be a different summer.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Lyrics taken from Eminem - Legacy.


	2. Electric Introduction

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 2: Electric Introduction  
**

It had been a month since Dudley and I did our reconciliation thing. To be honest, I hadn't seen much of him, seeing as I've been almost completely focused on the computer he'd so graciously given me. I even lost track of which day it was, strangely enough. I knew so much, now. Was this how Hermione felt when learning things? I never really had any interest in schoolwork, since I picked up on the basics and managed to score over 80% on my tests; it was the same story in Hogwarts. Most of the time, my scores were Exceeds Expectations— except Potions, but then again, Snape was a total shitstain. Hermione helped with my homework, but I never really put my all in theoretical work.

Anyway, back to what I was talking about. The day after I'd received Dudley's 'presents', I started using the computer. Took me around ten minutes to get the hang of properly typing on the keyboard. And so, the first thing I did was launch something called 'Mozilla Firefox' — a program that accessed the internet— and, like every curious fourteen year old boy, what I decided to look up was 'girls' on the search index called 'Google' (later of course learning that I could say "I googled girls" without sounding stupid).

I got a list of TV shows, and actual definitions for the word 'girl', which made me face-palm. Luckily, at the top, there was a link to a series of images. What followed was a veritable fucking  _ocean_  of the hottest women I'd ever laid eyes on. Pictures of women in bikinis, underwear, maid outfits, or no clothing at all, showing off their curves and tanned bodies in glorious high definition. Some were even kissing! It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. Why the hell did wizards hate Muggles, when they could provide us with such beauty?

That was the beginning of my corruption. By the end of the first week, I'd already went through thousands of pictures and hundreds of videos— discovering porn was like icing on the cake— as well as all the tissues in my room. Now I understood why Dudley had all those 'colds', last year.

Over the remaining weeks, I began 'surfing' on the internet. It was difficult, at first, since I had no idea where I was supposed to go, but Dudley had given me a list of websites I could access. He told me to access them in order, and not randomly. It was strange advice, but he hadn't steered me wrong yet.

As to the list itself, he gave it to me in point form:

1) Google: I was already using this website quite extensively for most of my 'needs'. If anything confused me, or I didn't understand a reference, or a certain word I saw, I was to 'google' the term. So I used it to research anything and everything that grabbed my fancy, or seemed any useful.

2) YouTube: According to Dudley, this website was essentially a library of videos that people shared with the world. Most of the content was boring and harmless. Some were comedic in nature, like videos of people failing at just about anything I could think of. A lot were just people playing video games to show people how to beat certain games— playthroughs, they were called. Then there was the so called 'weird' section of YouTube. Snakes eating eggs, and various animals including other snakes. Japanese commercials. Naked people performing odd cultural dances. Personally, I preferred watching videos about martial arts and documentaries of all kinds, learning a great deal about the sciences, and non magical animals. I was by no means an expert, of course. However, thanks to this crash course, I wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb when conversing with non magical folk. I snorted at the thought of Ron butchering terms like "electricity" and "telephone".

3) Encyclopedia Dramatica: At first, I thought this was like Wikipedia. It certainly shared an identical template; oh was I wrong. As the name indicates, it was a website dedicated to cataloging any and all interesting and dramatic happenings on the internet, also known as the Internets, interwebs, the web, WWW, DubyaDubyaDubya, etc. Said to be created as the 'final arbiter of truth'. Mostly filled with humorously racist and offensive content, ranging from indiscriminate mockery directed to every single race on earth, to recorded beheadings (complete with jokes in the subtext). Needless to say, desensitization occurred soon after.

4) 4chan: Encyclopedia Dramatica got most of its disturbing content from here. It was an image board, with sections of all kinds. The weirder parts of it was in the section titled 'Random', also known as /b/ ("Do not talk about /b/!" I muttered to myself amused, remembering the so called rules of the Internet). The things that were seen in there could simply not be unseen. If Encyclopedia Dramatica did not do the job of desensitizing me, 4chan surely did.

However, Anonymous surprisingly did deliver. Among the many posts detailing gruesome murders, accidents, self experimentation, videos of wizards attacking people in Europe began surfacing. My first thought when checking these posts out was "fake and gay", but then, more and more were posted. Incredibly, 4chan made an announcement on their homepage, telling its European user base to be excessively careful on the streets if they saw people in robes waving sticks at them. Most of the basement dwellers took that as a joke, but some who actually regularly left their houses took it rather seriously. All this communication between Muggles was occurring underneath the wizards' noses; I found this highly amusing. Some Bulgarian bloke took it to the next level, as usual, keeping a camera with him at all times— and a gun. He ended up somehow filming himself killing a Death Eater, and followed by taking his stuff; a stick ("HOLY SHIT, A WAND?" was the general response), some gold, silver and bronze coins ("wat", was the general answer), and a few bottles of foul tasting, viscous liquid ("What is this, an MMORPG?"). The original poster (or OP, as it were), was hailed as a legend among the great 4chan heroes of old, and was subsequently arrested by the local police force (AKA "party-vanned") for first degree murder, as per the usual course.

The deeds of that Bulgarian bloke made me realize something. Here was a guy, a Muggle, who took down a full fledged Death Eater, all on his own. Sure, the bloke was probably a glory seeking, murdering piece of shit, but  _he actually pulled it off_. If he hadn't shared it with 4chan, he would've probably gotten away with it, as well.

So, if he could do it, why couldn't I?

The answer was simple: I  _could_. Then came the following question: _should_  I?

An image of Dumbledore with a disappointed expression on his face appeared to the forefront of my mind. I savagely tore it aside, feeling a little satisfaction at doing so. That old man pissed me off back in June, when he'd refused Mrs. Weasley's request that I stay with them for the summer.

I'd remembered it quite well. Dumbledore had simply refused her request and said that he had 'his own reasons'. I was reminded of the night that Voldemort was resurrected.

 _"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there..._ " Voldemort had said, back then. I remembered the words. Dumbledore put me with the Dursleys when old Tom was beaten the first time. While I was now on decent terms with Dudley, and to a lesser extent Petunia, I still hated Vernon with a burning passion. I understood the need for safety, but why not take care of me himself?

The answer, of course, was easy. He's not my next of kin, so why should he bother? In my head, I acknowledged the validity of that statement. That didn't stop the feelings of resentment I had towards the man, though. I just hid them better, that's all. I still respect the man, for making the hard decisions, but respecting and actually liking someone are not the same thing.

Back to my current dilemma.

I knew that I was definitely going to be at the heart of this war, no matter what people might have said. Voldemort has been after me for a long time, now. Twice in First Year; the first, was when he jinxed my departed Nimbus 2000 during a Quidditch game; the second, at the end of the year, when I was forced to kill Quirrell to defend myself. Again, Tom tried to kill me in Second Year, through an enchanted diary of all things. My Third Year was, impossibly, delightfully free of Voldemort. Of course, it all went to the crapper in Fourth Year. Hell, that entire year was particularly horrible in more ways than one; shunned by most of the student body, scared out of my mind about the upcoming tasks, forced to get past a dragon, to swim through a freezing lake for an hour, to make my way through a maze filled with dangerous creatures and traps of all kinds. Just when I thought it was all over, when I got to the Triwizard Cup... Voldemort came back. After somehow managing to not die, yet again, I was almost killed by Moody, who turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr.!

'I'm half expecting next year to fight a Nundu or a Giant or something. Maybe both. Or maybe another dose of Voldemort. Maybe Voldemort ON the Nundu, with his pet giant stupidly walking behind him. That's it!' I thought to myself, my mind going off in tangents.

Anyway, it was time to take the kid gloves off, time to take things seriously. I wouldn't kill anyone, of course. Maybe beat them into submission, break their wands, go as far as cut off an arm or two. As for old Tommy... Well, I don't really think he was just going to roll over and die if I asked nicely enough. He pretty much dominated the entire fight last June. It was only thanks to random chance that I made it out of there at all. If that portkey wasn't there, and if the reverse spell effect hadn't occurred when our wands connected, I would've been dead. Or worse, held hostage, at the mercy of Voldemort, who seemed to dole out Cruciatus curses like candy.

I got off my chair, and stood in front of the mirror, gazing at myself. I needed something powerful, something fast. My eyes flitted to the scar on my forehead. That lightning bolt scar made me a target, I needed to become stronger!

Wait a minute... Lightning. I jumped back on my seat in front of the computer, and opened a new tab in my browser. Quickly typing in "Lightning", got me several Wikipedia links, as well as a few videos on YouTube. I clicked one of the video links, watching the thunderstorm recording. The original poster included a few slow motion takes of it, and I was literally in awe of it. The caption at the bottom of the video stated that lightning travels at a speed of over a hundred kilometers per second. To put it into perspective, it was almost 300 times times as fast as the speed of sound.

I pulled up a new tab, searching for even more and more information, no matter how mundane it seemed. I looked up articles, books, more videos, checked out a few manga I'd been reading online. I dismissed nothing. Magic was like energy, right? It wasn't just about pointing a wand and saying the words. If that were the case, there wouldn't be Muggles, now would there? I remembered the sword of Gryffindor appearing to me when I was fighting the basilisk. Sure, Dumbledore had said the sword would appear to any true Gryffindor, but it was definitely  _me_  who managed to summon the sword.

I fondly stopped at the Fairy Tail manga; I'd been reading this comic for a while, always eager to check out every new chapter being released on a weekly basis. The whole story struck a chord within me, because most of the characters were children who'd been through horrible circumstances, but found solace in each other and the guild that they joined. The comics sometimes felt like great lessons in morality, encouraging friendship, loyalty, and love towards your fellows, your guild-mates, as it were; and to be honest, it was something of a private desire of mine to find others who were like me. People who'd suffered like me. That way, I wouldn't feel so alone in this world. Sure, Hermione was a pretty great friend, but she didn't really understand what I've been going through. On the other hand, Ron's betrayal hurt me deeply. I'd only told him I forgave him because I had enough enemies that year, and didn't need to make even more. I didn't think I'd ever trust him again.

I shook my thoughts of Ron and Hermione off, and backtracked. I especially enjoyed reading about the magic that existed in the world of Fairy Tail. Lost Magic, Dragon Slayer Magic, Celestial Spirit Magic, God Slayer Magic, Demon Slayer Magic, various elemental magic types as well. My personal favorite was the Dragon Slayer magic. And now, the idea of becoming a Lightning Dragon Slayer was looking incredibly appealing. Speed, precision, and power. Laxus Dreyar was a total powerhouse, completely dominating most of his fights. Something of an awkward jerk, to be sure, but powerful nonetheless.

But could I really replicate that kind of magic? We students had always been told that wandless magic was incredibly rare, and highly difficult to control. But I'd also seen Dobby throw Lucius Malfoy across a hallway with a push of magic. Goblins had their own style of magic. Veela were capable of throwing fireballs. Basilisks used magic in their eyes to kill you with a single gaze. Phoenixes could teleport anywhere they wanted, and carry great weights. Owls could find you anywhere unless you were hidden behind wards. The list went on and on...

I was reminded of a speech by Makarov that I'd read at the start of the story. " _Listen up. The power to overcome reasoning is born from reasoning. Magic is not a miracle. When the 'spirit' flow within us and the 'spirit' flow in nature connects, they will form an embodiment for the first time. You will need a strong mentality and a lot of concentration for that. I mean, pouring all of your soul into whatever you do IS the magic._ "

The Patronus charm was a great example of this. I could say the words and point my wand somewhere, but if I did not think of a happy memory, nothing would happen.

I needed to believe in myself, that I could do it. No doubts. And my magic should act accordingly. It had to.

That was why, not thirty minutes later, I stood in front of a contraption I'd made on the fly. Borrowing some copper wire and electrical tape from the garage, I hooked up a series of batteries together, taping them up so they don't easily separate, as well as fixing both ends with copper wire. I held the wires with rubber gloves, and inched them closer to my mouth, which was wide open.

I hesitated for a moment, a part of my conscience yelling at me that this was incredibly stupid and that I could die. I laughed at it, just like I usually did, and bit down on the copper wire, hard. Bad move. Almost immediately, my nerves flared wildly, sending chaotic pain signals throughout my entire body. I tried to open my mouth, but the electricity forced me to clench my teeth even harder. My tongue burned, the smell of burning flesh entering my lungs as I hyperventilated. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, twitching erratically.

'Concentrate, damn it!' I thought to myself, forcefully calming down with deep breaths. It hurt like hell, but I forced through the pain. My gums and tongue were blistering, my teeth blackened, showing many cracks. My muscles made random spasms, a side effect of the electricity interfering with nerve signals. I was starting to reconsider this whole thing, when my magic answered my call. The electric current stopped being chaotic, and instantly took the path straight to my stomach instead of various parts of my body. The pain was much worse now, now fully concentrated in my abdomen. It felt like my stomach was being cooked from the inside. Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn't give up hope. It was working! I directed the electricity! So what if my stomach couldn't handle it? I could simply fashion myself a new one, one that can digest electricity and add it to my own power! I felt my insides gradually morphing. The pain lessened and lessened, until it was completely gone. Nothing hurt any more. Not my tongue, not my teeth, not my muscles, not my stomach...

I stayed that way for a few minutes, until the current stopped. The batteries were completely drained. I relaxed my jaw, and spit the copper wires out of my mouth, not really enjoying the taste of it. I stood up and walked in front of the mirror again. I hadn't even noticed the wide grin on my face. My teeth were still black, but they felt fine! I worriedly ran my tongue over them, the saliva cleaning off the dark charcoal layer, showing the white behind it. The charcoal tasted horrid, so I quickly licked off any spot I could reach, and spit out the black wad of spit mixed with charcoal. It wasn't enough, so I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, idly realizing that my canines were slightly longer than before.

I went back to my room, and made sure the batteries were empty, by stuffing one into my MP3 player. It didn't turn on.

I grinned again, and began hooking up even more batteries.

There was work to be done.


	3. The Obligatory Dementor Encounter

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 3: The Obligatory Dementor Encounter  
**

" _As a child, you would wait  
and watch from far away._

 _But you always knew that you'll be_  
the one that works while they all play.  


_And you, you lay, awake at night and scheme  
of all the things that you would change,_

_but it was just a dream!"_  I mouthed, my headphones blaring sweet music in my ears. It was a song that came out just a few hours ago, made by the company that created League of Legends in collaboration with Imagine Dragons, a band from the United States. I was quite familiar with the game, having reached a pretty decent rank. Platinum, if you were wondering.

I was currently in the grocery store, waiting in line behind Dudley and a few other people. I'd gotten myself some more batteries, some coke, and chips. Needed something to munch on and drink while I played games and surfed the web, after all.

It's been a week and a half since I had the bright— and successful— idea of trying to eat electricity out of a series of batteries. At first, I started with a low voltage/amperage, since I'd read somewhere that the human body can only take so much before the heart fails. Though, so far, I have not felt anything aside from an increase in my physical strength, and a sense of full-ness that I'd never really felt before. It was like my magical energy soared through the roof every time I exposed myself to electricity.

Regardless of the apparent lack of danger, I didn't want to risk things, so I worked my way up steadily. It was a boring effort, but the alternative would've been that I bit more than I could chew, and would end up dead. Within the space of a few days, I confirmed that I could eat high voltage/current electricity by feeding on the power given to Number Four Privet Drive.

With that done, I began to experiment with my powers, by going out, at night, with my Invisibility Cloak on. I would go to the local park, find a secluded spot, and practice my new magic heavily. I still referred to it as Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, of course. The same magic Laxus used in the manga.

Laxus' signature magic, over which he possessed great mastery, allowed him to produce, control and manipulate lightning and electricity at his will. Through its use, Laxus could not only generate lightning from his body, but also make it appear from almost anywhere to strike his opponents, taking them by surprise. By generating electricity on different parts of his body, he was capable of making his hand to hand attacks deadlier, and of propelling himself around to gain extra momentum. The bright light from his lightning can be also used to momentarily blind enemies. In addition, much like other Elemental types of Magic, the magic allowed Laxus to turn his own body into lightning, in order to evade enemy attacks and move around at high speed.

I realized it would probably take me some time before I fully mastered these powers. The fact that I've only been working on channeling the electricity around my body for the rest of my time was indicative enough of how difficult this was. So far, I managed to charge my body with electricity. Through thorough testing on the trees in the park, I noted that my attacks have gained a little  _oomph_ to them. I was much faster, and my reaction time had increased significantly. I could also make electricity fly in between my fingers, which was very intimidating, come to think of it.

I absentmindedly handed the items to the clerk, who quickly scanned the products.

"That'll be fifteen quid." The worker drawled lazily, holding out a hand expectantly. I fished out a twenty pound note from my back pocket, and handed it to the man. He pulled out a five from the register and gave it to me.

"Thanks." I said, and he gave a slight nod, before turning to the next customer.

Dudley and I made our way to Number Four in silence. It was night out. Dudley was giving me strange looks for a couple of minutes now.

"What is it?" I finally said.

"Oh, nothing." Dudley answered, flushing in embarrassment. "Must be seeing things, but I could've sworn you looked scrawnier. And I still don't get how you don't need glasses any more."

Ah, his looks made more sense now. To explain, a nice side effect of eating electricity was that body automatically corrected its flaws using the excess energy I'd absorbed into my being. I found I could run faster, jump higher, and tire less easily. My eyesight was being gradually corrected, as well. It was good enough right now, that my glasses weren't helping much. Hell, these days, they'd been causing more headaches than actually helping.

"It must be my... special gifts." I hedged around the subject, hoping he'd drop it. Dudley nodded.

"I.. Figured as much." Dudley muttered. "I'm kind of jealous, honestly."

"Jealous?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Dudley confirmed, looking away from me. "Do you know how long it took for me to lose my fat, and replace it with muscle? It was a lot of hard work, and you just did it in the span of a couple of weeks."

"Oh, I see." I gave a non-answer, not sure how to react to this. I felt bad that such things were easy for wizards, yet Muggles had to suffer to achieve results.

"Umm..." I hesitated as we turned a corner. "If you want, I can make a few, uh, potions that can help you out, and stuff."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah."

"Won't that get you in trouble? I thought you weren't allowed to use _it_  out of school." Dudley argued.

"Oh, I don't need to use  _it_  for those particular potions. It's more like a mix of cooking and chemistry, honestly. You probably could do it if you had the ingredients." I answered easily. "Though, it's usually much easier to buy them off an apothecary. I'll look into it for you, if you like."

"That'd be nice. Thanks."

"No probl-"

I stopped suddenly, feeling a shift in the air around me. We were _definitely_  not alone. Dudley kept walking ahead of me, oblivious of the danger. He stopped, noticing that I was not walking alongside him any longer.

"Harry?" He called out, before walking to me. The feeling of an imminent threat was getting closer and closer.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Dudley snapped his fingers in front of me, getting my attention. "Why are you just standing here? Let's go."

"Something's wrong." I said, looking around. "We're in danger."

It was starting to get cold now. The streetlamps around us began to flicker, before shutting off altogether. The air around us grew colder and colder, as frost began to accumulate on the metal streetlamps. I only knew one being capable of this.

"Shit. Shit!" I swore loudly. "Dudley, whatever you do, stay with me."

"W-What's going on? Why's everything dark and cold?"

What the hell are dementors doing here? Weren't they supposed to be guarding the Azkaban prison? Dudley and I were shivering now, the cold becoming incredibly intense.

"Whatever you do, Dudley, keep your mouth shut." I said quickly. "The monsters we are about to face are called dementors. They're like black wraiths, like the ones from Lord of the Rings. If they catch you, don't open your mouth, all right?"

"All- All right." Dudley's teeth clattered together as he stuttered out a response. I lifted my hand in the air, and channeled electricity to it. Lightning surged and danced in my hand, bathing the immediate area around us with a bluish-white light. I looked around, not seeing any dementors near us.

"You see anything?" Dudley asked. I answered in the negative, before hearing long, hoarse rattling breaths. I felt a jolt of dread at the sound of my mother's screaming. I also heard Voldemort's taunts ring in my head.

"H-Harry." Dudley said slowly, bringing me back to reality. "Did you hear that? Something breathing."

"I did." But how did Dudley hear it? Muggles weren't supposed to be capable of detecting the presence of dementors!

The sound grew stronger and stronger. I heard Dudley gasp, and turned to face the same direction he was. There were two of them at the end of a nearby alley, coming straight for us. They glided smoothly along the ground, not making any noise aside from their breathing. I grabbed onto Dudley's arm, pulling him roughly with me. We began running in the direction of Number Four, my electricity lighting the way.

We took shortcuts, evading the dementors as long as we could. My increased stamina and physique was a lifesaver, as I managed to keep up with Dudley's sprint and we were able to avoid the dementors for quite a while. But, we began to tire out.

Both of us had to stop.

"Can't go on..." I wheezed out, the lightning fading from my hand, and submerging us in complete darkness once more.

"Same... We've been in a full sprint..." Dudley took a long, shuddering breath. "For five minutes."

"How much further?" I asked, even though I knew exactly how much ground we needed to cover to get to the house.

"Couple more minutes... We can make it. Just need to rest for a bit."

Unfortunately, it was not to be. We felt the presence of the demon spawns as they glided closer and closer to us. Didn't dementors get tired, too? What the hell were they made of? What energy did they use?

"Fuck..." Dudley breathed hard. Was this how it was going to end?

"Agreed." I answered tiredly, pulling out my wand. " _Lumos."_

"I'm probably going to get in trouble for this."

I pointed my wand at the dementors, ignoring the bad memories their presence dredged up. I thought about Sirius, instead. I thought about the happy life we were going to have together. I thought about my recent friendship with my cousin.  _I refused to let us die!_

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ "

Prongs erupted from the tip of my wand, charging at the two dementors with great fury. It slammed into both spectral beings, sending them flying away from us, into the night sky, which began to clear up due to the absence of the monsters I had to drive off.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and turned to Dudley, who was shaking from the stress.

"Dudley." I called out to my cousin. He didn't answer. "Dudley, you still there? Dudley."

"Huh?" Dudley looked confused, as if he didn't know where he was for a second, before his expression cleared up. "Sorry. I'm- I'm-"

"It's all right." I soothed. "You did better than I did the first time I came across these things."

"The first time?" Dudley shivered. "Why would you even want to come close these?"

"Wasn't by choice!" I laughed hollowly, as we picked ourselves off the ground. "They were always attracted to me."

We hurriedly made our way back to Number Four, looking around every few moments to make sure we weren't being followed by the dementors, or anything else. It was almost as grueling as actually facing off against the demon spawns, since our minds played tricks on us constantly. Thankfully, me managed to reach my aunt and uncle's house without further incident. Petunia was already waiting for us, looking slightly worried.

"About time! Do you both realize how long you were... taking...?" She stopped when she saw our pale, sweat covered skin. We looked like we'd been through a five day marathon.

"Wh-what's the matter?" She asked, moving closer to Dudley, who didn't protest his mother's fussing, for once. She jerked her hand away.

"Your skin's so  _cold!_ Come on, get in the house!" She led him in, and I followed with an annoyed grumble. I didn't expect any concern towards me, but it still kind of hurt. Whatever.

"Vernon? VERNON!" Aunt Petunia called out. The man in question, came out of the living room, his mustache blowing hither and tither, showing that he was agitated. He hurried over to Dudley, checking him over.

"He's ill, Vernon!"

"What is it, son? What's happened?" Vernon took in the sweat covered boy, wondering what could have occurred. "You haven't been mugged, have you, son?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Then—"

"That thing that was following us... It's like I could never be happy again. It was horrible..." Dudley shuddered and took a deep breath.

Vernon turned to me, anger in his gaze.

"What did you do, boy?" Vernon walked threateningly towards me.

"Nothing, I swear! We got attacked by dementors!" I protested.

"Dementors? What in blazes are you talking about! Make sense, will you!" Vernon looked confused and angry.

"Demons." Dudley cut in. "Demons. They were demons."

Vernon whipped his head so quickly towards Dudley it wasn't even funny.

"I saw them, dad. Harry drove them away. He saved my life, mum, dad."

Vernon froze at that, and gave me a long, appraising look. I glared back, daring him to challenge what was said. It was a long moment, before Vernon actually  _gave me a nod_ , and turned to Dudley worriedly.

"Come on, son, let's get you to bed." The man maneuvered his son up the stairs.

"Chocolate helps a lot." I called out to the duo, while Petunia looked on worriedly _._ She looked at me for a moment, before disappearing into the living room. She came out shortly afterwards with a box of chocolates, giving me a handful, before going up the stairs to follow her husband and son.

I gaped as I watched her leave.

First Uncle Vernon gave me a thankful nod, and just now, Aunt Petunia gave me chocolates to help me! Hell had frozen over. There was no other explanation. I'd been finally acknowledged by my family. It was a juvenile dream that I'd forsaken long ago, but now, it came true. I didn't believe it.

Yet it happened.

I began to munch on the chocolates, feeling better and better as the chocolate did its work to counter the effects of the dementors. A hoot brought my attention to the owl that swooped in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter in my hands. I had a feeling what this letter would say.

I ripped open the envelope, and perused its contents. I read it. Then I re-read it. Rage ensued.

"Expulsion...!" I sputtered angrily. "For defending myself!? Should I just roll over and die?" I spat out. So  _ministry representatives_  were coming to take my wand? Let them come. Every single one will go back to the Ministry empty handed— because they'd be lacking arms!

A few tense minutes later, another owl showed up. This time, it was a message from Arthur Weasley telling me that Dumbledore was running interference, and that I mustn't give them my wand. Like I planned to give it to them, anyway. Hah! Thus began a series of owls coming, with letters telling me to "NOT LEAVE PETUNIA'S HOUSE!" and that I shouldn't hand over my wand.

Vernon came downstairs, to complain about the noise, when he saw the stack of letters next to me.

"What's all this, boy?"

"Oh, nothing important. I've apparently been suspended from school for saving Dudley."

"Expelled for-" The man's face looked like a mix of glee and outrage. Someone's having trouble reconciling their feelings, I see.

" _Suspended_." I corrected.

"Why would you be suspended for saving my boy?" Vernon truly looked confused now.

"Cause I used magic to drive off the dementors." I said as if I were discussing the weather. "I've got a hearing with the ministry to sort this out, but it was a clear cut case of self defense. I'm not too worried."

"I see..." Vernon hedged, before giving a pained grimace. "Your sort has its own  _government_?" He looked positively horrified at that revelation.

"Oh yeah." I grinned, showing elongated canines. "They control your government too. It's all a secret, of course. Most people get their memories wiped if they tried to blab about it. Have to keep it a secret, you know?" I had a fierce grin on my face. Uncle Vernon looked pasty white at my words.

I have to keep myself amused somehow, right?


	4. Arctic Fury

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 4: Arctic Fury  
**

Four days had passed since Dudley and I had an encounter with the servants of anti-happiness, the dementors. I stayed inside the house, as ordered by the many messages that made me feel like I was some kid that got his hand caught in the cookie jar. It was infuriating. I fight for my life and that of my cousin, and all I get is a stern scolding? I fought to regain control of my emotions. I sent Hedwig three days ago, with orders to peck her recipients until they gave an answer, but haven't heard from her since. I ignored any thoughts of her being dead in a ditch somewhere.

The Dursley family had been kinder to me these past few days. And to think, all it took for that to happen was saving Dudley's life. Wish I had thought of that sooner! I heaved a great sigh, deciding that all of this didn't matter, for now. Being angry about recent events was not currently useful. If I learned something from the summer holiday, it was to exert great self control, and quick, strategic thinking. Often times, anger got in the way, though it did have its uses. So let's use that head of mine to figure out where to go from here.

Dudley and I were attacked by dementors, who are supposed to be guarding the wizard prison. This could have several meanings. One: the Ministry doesn't have control over them. Two: I was so tasty in my Third Year at Hogwarts that they  _just had_ to eat me— I chuckled hollowly at that. Three: Voldemort controls them now and sent them to kill me. Four: the Ministry sent them to kill me. The second option was probably not likely, since dementors had a constant source of food from the prisoners. The first and third options seemed highly plausible, while the fourth one... Well, it had merit. I remembered all of Fudge's blunders; he tried sending Hagrid to Azkaban. He said I was Confounded when I told him Sirius was innocent. Moreover, he refused to believe that Voldemort had come back, last June. The words had come straight out of Dumbledore's mouth, and he refused to believe them.

Maybe they're in league with Voldemort? Maybe they just want to shut me up. Old Fudge was rather eager to shut Barty Crouch Jr. up, wasn't he?

So how do I go from here? I've got a disciplinary hearing to attend soon. I need a strong defense for my case, which means I need witnesses. Dudley was there. He'd seen the dementors. But the letter sent to me said that he was a Muggle. Though, if he was a Muggle, how did he see the dementors? The next logical step to my train of thought was that Dudley was probably a Squib. Why would the Ministry of Magic care about those that can't do magic? Squibs were as good as Muggles, no? The only visible ones, are the ones that come from pureblood families. If a Squib is born into a Muggle family, how would anyone know?

They wouldn't.

It was a long-shot, but it could work. I had to ask Dudley to attend this hearing with me, as a witness to the defense. There didn't seem to be any other way.

I heard the doorbell ring. It was Eight in the evening, who could be visiting right now? I pulled my wand out almost immediately, my left hand ready to channel electricity. I silently opened the door to my room, and made my way to the top of the stairs, hearing the front door open.

"Yes, can I help you?" I heard Aunt Petunia say.

"We're here to pick up Potter." A gruff, low growling voice said. A voice I recognized. Mad-Eye Moody was here? Or was it a fake— again? I slowly backed away into my room, and closed the door with an almost inaudible click. I waited. I heard Vernon and Petunia protesting, but their protests were ignored as I heard footsteps thumping on the stairs. Just how many people were here? I swallowed thickly, at the thought of having to fight them off. I might be able to kill off a few, before I finally succumbed to injuries.

There was no knock, Moody just opened my door, and stepped inside, seeing me pointing my wand at him. He had an approving, if a little bit annoyed look.

"At least you're not stupid." The grizzled Auror growled out. I gave a nasty smirk in response, not lowering my wand in the least. Several people were outside in the hallway, but I couldn't make any of them out. They were all excitedly peeking at me. How annoying.

"How do I know you're the real Moody? You've been caught by Death Eaters before. What's to stop it from happening again?" I bit out harshly. "Answer quickly, or face the consequences."

"Harry," A familiar voice called out, pushing people aside. "It's us. We've come to take you away."

"Professor Lupin?" My heart soared at the sight of my former teacher. He looked worse than I'd ever seen him before. His robes looked horrible, his skin was clammy and white, but he had a broad smile on his face. I lowered my wand slightly, but my grip on it was still strong. I composed myself, before pointing the wand at him, now. "What was my boggart's form, and what did you say about it?"

The man looked surprised for a moment, before answering. "It was a dementor, and I told you that you were very wise, because what you feared was fear itself."

I nodded, completely relaxing at that. "Good answer."

"What about you, then?" Moody growled out. "How do we know you're not just some Death Eater we brought to Headquarters?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag." I answered.

"That's Harry, all right." Lupin confirmed, before giving me a hug. I stiffened against the contact, but relaxed slightly.

"Good to see you too, old man." I smirked, giving the older man a few pats on the back. Lupin and I made our way past the group of wizards staring at me as they stood in the hallway. We descended the stairs, seeing the Dursleys sitting in the living room. Vernon made to stand.

"So, you're leaving, boy?" Vernon asked with a strange look on his face. Petunia wasn't even looking at me; it seemed like she was deep in thought.

"Yeah, I have to prepare for that hearing soon." I noticed Dudley standing off to the side, and walked to him. "Dudley."

"Yeah?"

"You want to be a witness to my defense?" I asked immediately, not bothering to beat around the bush. Now was not the time to screw around. "Would be much easier for me to do this if I had a witness."

"A-All right, Harry." Dudley agreed hesitantly, wary of what could happen.

"It's on the 12th of August. I'll see you then?" I held out my hand.

"Yeah. Count on it." Dudley shook my hand, before giving me a look. He was about to say something, but hesitated.

"What's up?"

"Ah- Well- Nevermind. It's nothing." Dudley looked away from me. What was that about?

"O-kay, then." I drawled, before moving to the stairs. A witch with violet, spiky hair, a heart-shaped face, and dark eyes blocked my path. She was kind of hot.

"Could you move aside, please? I have to get my stuff from my room." I asked nicely. I'd already fully packed in case of an attack, or an ambush of some kind. All I needed was to haul the stupid trunk downstairs. The woman giggled, stuffed her hand into one of her pockets, before handing me a miniature trunk, and broom. My trunk. MY FIREBOLT! Why is it a midget now?! Inconceivable!

"Oh. Thanks, I guess. Could you turn the Firebolt back to normal?"

"No problem, Harry!" She smiled brightly and did so, before wincing. "Oh, right. Where are my manners? My name's Tonks."

"Harry Potter." I said, not questioning—nor caring— why she gave only part of her name. The internet taught me that anonymity was a blessing. "Care to introduce me to everyone?"

"My pleasure!" She winked at me, before pointing towards Moody. "This is Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-Eye Moody."

"Yeah, I know."

"Of course you know Remus Lupin." She then waved at the tall black wizard, who gave a bow and a smile. "That's Kingsley Shacklebolt".

"Elphias Doge." Much Elphias, Such Doge. I bit back a snicker at the reference, as the wizard in question gave a nod. Tonks kept going.

"That's Dedalus Diggle—" Tonks said but was interrupted by the excitable man.

"We've met before." Diggle squeaked out, dropping his hat.

"Emmeline Vance," Tonks pointed towards a witch in an emerald green shawl who inclined her head.

"Sturgis Podmore, and finally, Hestia Jones." Tonks finished, pointing towards a square-jawed wizard with straw-colored hair, and a pink-cheeked, black haired witch, who waved at me.

"Nice to meet you all," I began. "But why is everybody and their mother here to meet me?"

The group had the decency to look sheepish at the question. Thankfully, Professor Lupin came to their rescue.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you." He fought from snickering at their expression.

"The more the better." Moody said ominously. "We're your guard, Potter."

"That's nice." I said offhandedly, already knowing this. "So, when do we leave?"

"A minute or so, I reckon." Lupin checked a nearby clock.

"All right then, let's get outside." I said agreeably, and everyone shuffled their way to the front door. I turned to my relatives, giving them a nod.

"See you all next summer."

"Good luck, boy."

I did a double take. Did he just-

I shook my head, disbelievingly, and walked out of the house.

Not five steps were taken, before the front door opened, revealing Dudley.

"Harry." It seemed as if the boy was making a great effort to just talk to me.

"Yes? Spit it out."

"I-I..." Dudley stuttered, before swearing loudly. "Fuck it! I'm coming with you."

"Sure- Wait, what?"

**oooooooo**

It took some begging, but Dudley managed to convince his parents to tag along with me. He promised that he'd be back after the hearing. He made a quick call to his girlfriend— I gleefully teased him about that— to tell her that he was going to be out of the country until the twelfth of August, and like that, we were ready to depart.

The trip itself was not really noteworthy, as we flew around, in formation, avoiding Muggles, and freezing our collective asses off because we were high in the sky. Tonks managed to convince Moody not to  _drag us in the fucking clouds_. Paranoia is a great friend of that man. Dudley was astonished at all the flying, but seemed to be enjoying himself.

Eventually we landed in the middle of a small square. Moody busied himself by taking out the lights using what looked to be a lighter. Oh the beauty of contradiction.

"That should take care of the Muggles who might be looking outside their windows." Moody growled out, before motioning for everyone to follow. "Come on, quick."

We all followed, wands out, except Dudley of course. I could hear the muffled pounding of a stereo in the nearest house. There was some smelly garbage somewhere, as well.

Headquarters was in this slimy neighborhood? Dudley and I shared looks of bewilderment.

"Here," Moody walked between us, thrusting a piece of parchment to my hand. "Read it quickly, and memorize it. The both of you."

" _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_."

Order of the Phoenix, huh? Sounds like Dumbledore's been on the move. I gave the note to Dudley, who read it as well, and nodded at everyone. Moody snatched the piece of parchment, before setting it on fire. The grizzled Auror turned to the houses in front of us. I saw that there was a number eleven, and thirteen, side by side.

"Where's number-"

"Shh!" Moody shushed us urgently.

"Think about what you've just memorized." Lupin supplied helpfully. So we did.

Instantly, a house began to appear between number eleven and thirteen, pushing them aside. Dudley gaped at the display, while I nodded thoughtfully at the display of magic.

"Strange, wouldn't the Muggles feel the vibrations from that?" I asked curiously, as we all walked up the worn stone steps.

"No, the Muggles aren't magically sensitive like we are, Harry." Professor Lupin explained in a low voice, before tapping the door once with his wand. The door made many loud clicks, and even the clatter of a chain. Talk about excessive locks. "Try not to be too loud, and don't go far inside. Don't touch anything."

"Am I allowed to breathe?" I mocked his words, and entered the house without a care in the world, Dudley following. The hallway was dark for a few moments, before Moody lighted all the gas lamps up with a wave of his wand, revealing the most horrible looking house I'd ever been in.

"Mate, this place looks like it hasn't been used in decades." Dudley whispered next to me. I gave a nod.

"Looks like one of those houses in reality TV shows. You know, the ones that need fixing. It's a wonder it's still standing." I commented with a smirk.

Our voice seemed to attract footsteps from the far end of the hall. The door at the end opened, and out of it emerged Mrs. Weasley. She gave a bit of a confused look at Dudley, but beamed at me in welcome. She hurried towards us.

"Oh, Harry! It's lovely to see you!" She whispered, pulling me into one of her patented hugs. She gave me a critical look. "You're looking very healthy, Harry!"

I blushed, and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." I nudged Dudley forward. "This is my cousin, Dudley Dursley."

She eyed the formerly fat boy with distaste, before noticing my frown. Her expression softened immediately, before holding out her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dudley."

Dudley shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too."

"I would invite you both for dinner, but you're going to have to wait a bit, I'm afraid..." Molly turned to the gang of wizards behind us and said, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started."

They all began filing past us towards door in which Mrs. Weasley came out of. I made to follow, but Molly held me back.

"No, Harry." She refused me entry. "The meeting is for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait for them until the meeting is over and then we'll have dinner."

"But-"

"And keep your voice down in the hall." She added before I could say anything.

"Wait, why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"Wake anything up? What are you-" Dudley tried to say, but was interrupted by Molly ushering us past a pair of long curtains, and an umbrella stand that looked like it was made out of a troll's leg. We went up a dark staircase in silence, until...

"Holy shit." Dudley mouthed out looking to the side. I followed his line of sight, seeing a row of shrunken heads, mounted on plaques on the wall. House elf heads.

"Language!" Molly Weasley scolded.

"House elf heads, Dudley. Mrs. Weasley, why-"

"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear," I began to tune her out, only listening to where Ron and Hermione were supposed to be. She was not being helpful at all right now. My anger rose, bubbling to the surface, but I bottled it for now. Dudley and I reached the bedroom door, and opened it. Almost immediately, I was tackled by a mass of bushy hair, nearly knocking me over. Sheesh, will that girl ever learn?

"HARRY! I was so worried! Ron, Harry's here!" She called out. "We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how  _are_  you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless — but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us — the dementors! When we heard — and that Ministry hearing — it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's a provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —" Hermione rambled, as usual, before noticing Dudley behind me, smirking.

"Let him breathe, Hermione." Ron's voice was heard from the side. Hermione just looked at Dudley, as I gently pushed her off of me.

"Hi, Hermione, Ron. This is my cousin Dudley, standing behind me." I explained before any questions arose.

"Hello." Dudley quipped, still amused at what he just saw. "Didn't know you were popular with the girls, Harry."

"Don't get any ideas." I warned, before shaking hands with Ron. Dudley went through the hassle of introducing himself, as Hedwig landed on my shoulder, rubbing her head against mine affectionately, while I stroked her feathers, glad that she wasn't found and killed. It took the edge off of my rage, but I was still furious. I sat on a nearby bed.

"She's been in a right state." Ron said. "Pecked us half to death when we she brought your last letters. Look at this." He showed me the deep cut on his right index finger.

"Sorry." I said insincerely, a nasty smile on my face.

"We tried to give you answers, but Dumbledore wouldn't allow us to give any specific information." Ron tried to explain. It always came back to Dumbledore, huh. That man was infuriating, sometimes. Couldn't he send Fawkes over with messages, or something? I felt cold, anger rise within me at that. Why was I being kept in the dark? My eyes narrowed menacingly as I thought about how to deal with this.

"We are sorry about what happened, mate." Ron said morosely, mistaking my glare as me blaming them. But why would I blame them? They couldn't even use magic if they wanted to, and the adults could just force them to do nothing.

"He seemed to think it was best," Hermione backed up her red haired friend. "Dumbledore, I mean."

I said nothing, slightly amused at the growing panicked expressions on their faces, but too angry to smile right now.

"Why would Dumbledore keep me in the dark?" I wondered aloud. "Does he not trust me?"

"Don't be thick, Harry-" Ron tried to say.

"Maybe he thinks I'm too weak to be allowed any information of any kind..." I mused with an angry, calculating gaze. He clearly had no idea of my abilities with Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. Dudley stood off to the side, silently processing what he was hearing. He was probably trying to figure out how I was weak, considering I'd driven off those two dementors with a couple of words. Not to mention the lightning he'd seen appearing in my hand. If I was weak, then  _what the hell was he_? They were sobering thoughts.

"Of course he doesn't think that, Harry!" Hermione protested in defense of the old man. I turned my harsh glare at her. She wilted.

"Indeed? Can you read his mind? Looks to me as if you're not allowed to these meetings either!" I gave a cold grin.

"Please, Harry!" She said desperately, "We're sorry! We really tried to send you messages, to tell you what was going on, but they wouldn't let us!"

A very long, silent time, passed, with Hermione's sniffles only being heard. Ron lowered his head to the ground, while Dudley merely looked uncomfortable.

"I... believe you." I finally said, still angry. I turned to Dudley. "What do you think I should do?"

"Uh..." My cousin looked slightly surprised at my question, as if he didn't expect me to value his opinion or something. "I say fuck it. Barge in there, and demand answers. If someone tries to stop you, beat the shit out of them."

I pointedly ignored Hermione's gasp at the crude language, and gave a savage smirk, having expected an answer like that. My cousin has always brute forced his way through most situations. This one was no different, it seemed.

"Good enough as any solution." I agreed, before getting up and making my way to the door. Hermione stopped me with a hug.

"Harry, you can't!" She protested vehemently.

"Oh, I definitely  _can_." I retorted. "There is nothing I  _can't_  do. The only reason I  _don't_  do certain things is because I don't wish to  _deal with the consequences_ , not because I  _can't_. There's a huge difference, Hermione."

That seemed to shock her into silence, as I pushed her off of me. I glanced at both Ron and Dudley. "You guys can stay here if you don't wish to deal with the consequences of what I'm about to do." And I meant it. If they didn't follow me down there, I would completely understand, and I would not blame them for it.

"Worry not, I won't hold this against any of you, if you choose stay here." I continued, leaving out the door. All three of them followed. I smiled in response.

Half a minute later, we all stood in front of the closed door. Beyond it, a meeting was being held. The subject? Probably Voldemort and I. I tried opening the door, but it was firmly locked in place. Great. I loudly knocked twice.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione whispered worriedly, a part of her still not wanting to get into trouble. I gave no answer, as the door opened, revealing Mrs. Weasley. Behind her, I could see a large group of wizards sitting around a table, all looking at us. I spotted Dumbledore at the end, and Sirius— I had to bite back a smile— off to the side, next to Lupin. I also saw Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and the rest of my personal guard. Professor McGonagall was there as well, sending me a stern looking, probably knowing exactly what I wanted. Hell, even Snape was here!

"What's wrong, dearies?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking a little annoyed at the interruption.

"I want in." I went straight to the point.

"Harry, I've already said that you're not allowed to attend these meetings! You're too young." She tried to close the door, but I stopped her.

"I need to know, Mrs. Weasley."

"No, Harry. Go back to your room, all of you!" She closed the door in my face. My body shook angrily at the casual dismissal.

"Well, that's that." Ron said after a short silence.

"They think they can keep this from me...?" I said slowly, something of an intense look on my face. I began to channel my power, electricity sparking off of me. Ron and Hermione looked shocked at the display, while Dudley ushered them backwards, having seen this before.

I gave a grateful nod to Dudley.

"Oh, no... They will allow me entry. I tried asking nicely, but it just can't be helped, I guess." I smirked, before beginning to concentrate.

"Harry, what is-" Hermione tried to say, but I shushed her.

"You might want to stand back." Bluish-white lightning began to run through the entirety of my body, a chirping noise filling the hallway. I slapped my right fist against my hand, saturating it with magical power. They dared deny me what I had a right to know? I concentrated my energy, further and further, until my fist glowed almost white in color.

"Let's see them close the door now!  **Lightning Dragon's Breakdown**   **Fist!** " With a mighty yell, I slammed my overcharged fist into the thick, wooden door. It didn't stand a sliver of a chance.

Almost immediately, the door flew off its hinges, before being almost completely atomized by the energy I'd just released. Thick, wooden chunks of what remained flew everywhere, lightly pelting the shocked occupants of the room. I stalked menacingly inside, my fist still glowing, and my body still charged with jagged sparks of electricity. Dudley, Hermione, and Ron, were still outside, gawking at the display of pure, unadulterated power. Dudley had seen a hint of my powers, before, but he had never expected  _that_.

And to think, I still had a  _long_ way to go before I properly mastered the Breakdown Fist... At full power, I could probably break through steel.

Dumbledore was standing, too shocked to say anything, while everyone else openly gaped. I gazed at my fist pretending to be curious, ignoring the shock— no pun intended— of the room's occupants. I turned back to them, glaring harshly, the power fading from my body, except around my eyes, giving them a frightening green glow. My fist slightly crackled with residual power. It all made for an impressive sight.

"Now, care to tell me what's going on?"

The mad female yelling about half-breeds and freaks from behind me ruined the moment. I swore loudly.

So much for an impressive entrance.


	5. The Farce

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 5: The Farce  
**

I had planned on making an impressive entrance, to set the tone for how the meeting was going to progress. I had enough of being kept in the dark, and felt I deserved to know what's going on. After all, the gaping people in front of me would have never known Voldemort had come back if it weren't for me.

I certainly did impress, but would that shrieking hag _shut the fuck up_ already?

"One moment." I turned, walked outside, past my friends. I stood in front of the shrieking portrait that used to be covered by the curtains I passed by earlier. So that's what it was hiding. Ugly bitch, with an ugly mouth.

"-How dare you befoul the house of my fathers, half-breed scum! Begone from this g-"

"Are you _quite_ done?" I said loudly, gaining the portrait's attention. The woman in the portrait gave me a cold, appraising gaze, before snarling at me.

"Who are you, boy?" She asked, though from my wild mop of hair, she probably had an idea.

"Harry Potter." I smirked at the portrait.

"Blood-traitor!" She accused, and it looked as if another rant was going to begin.

"That may very well be, but I don't believe in such idiotic concepts such as the existence 'purebloods', 'half-bloods', and 'mudbloods'. I have more power in my snot than most 'purebloods' have in their entire bodies; or corpses after I'm through with them. I suggest you behave yourself, worm, before I obliterate you, just like I did the door behind me." I threatened and boasted at the same time. The witch in the portrait actually looked cowed, to the surprise of those attending the meeting.

"Will wonders never cease...?" I heard Sirius not-so-quietly say to Remus, who still looked completely gobsmacked.

"Thank you." I gave a polite nod, before heading back into the room. They were all staring at me with a mix of fear, astonishment and wariness. All except for Sirius, who had made his way toward me, giving me a hug, which I returned wholeheartedly. I missed my godfather. It was good to be in his presence again.

"Pull up a few chairs for us, will you?" I asked Sirius, who nodded and began to wave his wand.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to shake off her stupor at that moment.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Most of us had to cover our ears. That woman sure could yell! "How dare you barge into this meeting! You're not of age! You're too young-"

But she stopped at the utterly baleful look I gave her.

"Too young, am I?" I calmly repeated her words, malice dripping like venom off of my tongue, making her flinch. "Was I too young last June, when my wrist was sliced open and I was subjected to a few Cruciatus curses thanks to our dear Lord Voldemort?" Most of the room flinched at the name, and grimaced painfully at the mention of what happened to me during the Third Task.

"No answer?" I smiled, as Sirius finished conjuring the last of the needed chairs for my friends— who were already inside. Dumbledore gave Sirius a disapproving look, but did not protest my presence. Molly was so shocked that she didn't even tell Ron to leave, either.

Ignoring all the stares, I sat down, my friends following suit. The table was littered with many rolls of parchment, various scrolls, and the like. Looks like Dumbledore's fighting an information war here.

"By all means, continue with the meeting." I said without a care in the world. Snape seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it.

"...As you wish, Harry." Dumbledore acknowledged my request with a nod. That was the first thing he'd said since I entered the room. Maybe he wasn't as much of a manipulative bastard as I'd led myself to believe. Just goes to show that the best of us— me, of course— could be wrong.

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore!" Molly pleaded with the venerable old wizard, who gave her a kind smile.

"You are right, Molly. In fact, Sirius is right over there." He pointed towards my godfather, who grimaced. Some chuckled at the humor, while the rest face-palmed.

"This is no laughing matter!" Molly insisted, not glancing my way at all. Her attitude needed to change, because this dismissal of my worth as a member of this group was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Indeed it is not, Molly. However," Dumbledore began gravely. "If I ask Harry to leave this meeting, I have no doubt as to what comes next." The old wizard gave me a pointed look, as if knowing exactly what I was going to do.

"And what is the Gryffindor golden boy going to do exactly? Go cry to his friends? Throw a tantrum?" Snape asked, his typical sneer plastered on this place. Perhaps he did not quite understand the implications what I just did.

"Oh, it's very simple." I laughed, and sent a cruel smile in Snape's direction. "I would leave this cozy little building you have going here, and proceed to systematically maim or brutally cripple every single Death Eater that I manage to find." The fact that I uttered that sentence so nonchalantly made the occupants of the room feel a chill creeping up their spines. Even Snape looked slightly green at the admission. Dumbledore had an understanding, yet reproachful look— somehow with no twinkly eyes this time— on his face. Dumbledore was not acting like I thought he would. I had fully expected him to throw me out of the meeting, to be honest. Then I'd have to fight the war alone, which involved indiscriminate murder. I _was_ prepared to follow through with it, but would've much preferred to be part of this Order thing instead. Less work to be done, and all.

"Not quite exactly what I had in mind, but yes." Dumbledore answered politely, giving me a look that said 'words will be exchanged, later'. I nodded curtly.

"Let us get back to the contents of the meeting." Professor Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle in full blast again. "For those of you who have not started the meeting with us—" the headmaster motioned to my friends and I, "Arthur has informed us that he has found some slight success in getting a few members of the Ministry to join our cause, and Remus has met with failure in his task to sway the werewolves to our side." He ignored the annoyed look Lupin sent him before turning to Bill Weasley.

"What of the goblins at Gringotts?" Dumbledore asked genially.

"They're not giving anything away yet." Bill answered shortly. "I still can't work out whether they believe he's back or not. Of course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."

"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who." Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They've suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?" That got a few whispers going around.

"I think it depends on what they're offered." Lupin interjected. "And I'm not talking about gold; if they're offered freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"

Bill grimaced in response. "He's feeling pretty anti-wizard right now, thanks to Bagman not paying them back, and the Ministry covering it all up. They won't be flocking to our side anytime soon, but I believe that they will at most, be neutral."

"It is better than the alternative." Dumbledore concluded, and many other wizards and witches nodded in agreement. He then turned to Severus.

"What news do you bring of Lord Voldemort-" cue flinches, "-Severus?"

Snape huffed as he gave me another one of his patented Death Glares™, before dutifully reporting.

"The Dark Lord has been lying low, attempting to avoid the watchful eyes of the law. I do not believe that any attacks have been sanctioned as of yet-" I snorted loudly at that, making him stop.

"Anything to share, Potter?" Snape challenged.

"Yeah." I answered. "The Muggles have already been attacked by Death Eaters; some of them have even retaliated."

Worried whispers were now being exchanged.

"And how would you know of such information?" Snape asked accusingly.

"Ever hear of the internet?" I scoffed at his disbelief, and the baseless accusation. Almost no one seemed to recognize the term, unfortunately. Wizards were truly ignorant of the coming of the new age, weren't they?

"What is this 'inter net' you speak of?" Dumbledore interjected before things degenerated any further.

"It's... Well... Give me a second, I need to figure out a good definition." I stalled a bit, thinking of the best way to describe what the internet is to technophobic people. "It's made by Muggles, of course. They've placed many series of satellites that fly in orbit around the planet, transmitting information to each other. With the help of computers, which is a machine that functions like a library—among other things, they can access this network of satellites, and post anything they like, be it the written word, images, or videos. This is all incredibly fast, as the information is transmitted at the speed of light, which is around three hundred _million_ meters per second." I purposefully gave the speed in meters per second to stress how inconceivable such a speed is. "That's enough speed to run across the perimeter of the Earth in _less than an eighth of a second_."

I took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Videos are what we wizards like to call moving pictures, only they have the added benefit of sound. It's more reminiscent of a Pensieve memory, actually." I explained to alleviate some of the confusion, giving a nod to Dumbledore. "And lately, many videos have been posted, about people in masks and robes waving sticks, making houses and streets explode in great bursts of fire. One bloke from Bulgaria actually kept a gun— a miniature cannon, if you don't know what a gun is— on him at all times, and recorded himself killing a Death Eater, before taking his wand and his potions. I believe he was arrested by the local Muggle police force shortly afterwards, for first-degree murder."

"4chan?" Dudley whispered next to me.

"Yeah. Googled the scientific info, as well."

"Knew it."

"Heh."

Our exchange was ignored by the wizards around us, whose whispers were growing louder and louder. Ron looked completely out of his element, while Hermione looked impressed at the knowledge I'd spewed out. Mr. Weasley looked quite excited at the impromptu lesson. I resolved to show him a few gadgets later.

I turned to Snape, giving him an insincere smile. "My apologies for the rudeness of my interruption. Please continue with your report, Professor Snape."

The greasy haired man gave me another glare, before resuming. "I amend my previous statement by saying that I am not privy to all the plans that the Dark Lord deigns to share with me. With that said, these attacks could simply be the result of our new foreign recruits foolishly making attempts at impressing the Dark Lord. It is, of course, a futile gesture."

I nodded, having figured the same thing.

"As for the object that he is seeking..." Snape paused dramatically. Sheesh. "It seems as if he prefers the anonymity given to him by the Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his existence. Thus, he chooses not to step foot inside of the Ministry, or any public place for that matter, instead focusing his efforts on recruiting any and all who follow his cause from outside of the country."

"So it is safe." Dumbledore seemed to sag slightly in relief. I wanted to ask what _it_ was, but I figured Dumbledore would tell me after this meeting during our talk.

"For now, yes." Snape confirmed, before sitting back down. He gave me a heated glare, which I ignored.

The rest of the meeting seemed to go by smoothly. The members of the Order who were Aurors said that they'd got a couple of people to listen to them, but most of the Department refused to talk to them, being immensely loyal to Director Amelia Bones, who was Susan's aunt, if I remembered correctly.

Dumbledore stood to address everyone.

"I believe we have reached the end of our weekly meeting. If any of you would like to stay behind and have dinner, you are— of course— welcome to do so." Dumbledore announced the end of the meeting, before motioning for me to follow as he left the room.

"I'll see you guys in a bit, I'm sure this conversation will have to be private." I said to Hermione, Dudley and Ron, who gave nods of acknowledgement, before leisurely making my way outside.

"So, when did you lose all that weight?" I heard Ron ask as I left the room, and suppressed a snicker. Typical Ron, putting his foot in his mouth. The two would likely grill Dudley on what's been going on with me the past summer. I waved at Fred, George and Ginny, who were looking at me like I was some amazing hero. Likely, they had overheard the entire meeting due to the fact that I pulverized the door. I was surprised a new one wasn't conjured.

Hell, I was surprised I wasn't attacked by everyone. I shook these feelings of confusion off, and entered through another door in the hallway. It was a living room, from what I could tell. A few couches here and there, some dark-themed tapestry— hell, the whole house was dark-themed. I actually preferred the colors, having spent many nights with the lights off, in front of my computer screen. Didn't want to hurt my head too badly.

Dumbledore had already taken one of the couches, and was enjoying a nice lemon drop.

"Ah, hello Harry." Professor Dumbledore greeted me with a smile. He held out a few wrapped candies. "Lemon drop?"

"That would be nice, thanks." I took the proffered candy, unwrapping it and sliding it in my mouth. Would've preferred the taste of oranges, or maybe the taste of cola, like those gummies, but you can't have everything in life, sadly. I took a seat across from the old wizard, wondering what he was going to say.

"I find myself not quite sure how to start this conversation, dear boy." Dumbledore admitted, giving me a rueful look.

"Eh?" I gave the man a surprised look. "I honestly thought we were going to have a huge argument about how I should be more forgiving and less cruel. Maybe compare me to Voldemort or something, in some last ditch attempt to veer me off of the dark side or something." That seemed to make Dumbledore grimace in pain.

"I would never presume to tell you how you should feel or act, Harry." The man waved off my thoughts. "Worry not, you are not the only wizard who had the thought of taking up arms and hunting down the Death Eaters."

"I'm not?" I repeated. "Who else thought about it? Sirius? Moody probably?"

"Among a few others, yes. Myself included." Wait, did he just say that? "I am fully aware of my capabilities with a wand, my boy. Even with the powers you have shown me today, I would still beat you with ease. Moreover, I am most certainly capable of laying waste to all of the Death Eaters. Perhaps not all at once, of course..."

"Well, why don't we?" I tried not to be intimidated by that casual admission of him being stronger than me, and got the conversation back on track.

"You already know the answer to that, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore urged, and it all came to me in one impassioned speech I'd read about a few weeks ago.

"The cycle of hatred, huh?" I just couldn't stay angry at the old man. The words came to me, having memorized them. "War brings death... and wounds, and pain to both sides. There's nothing harder to accept than the-the deaths of those we love...," I stuttered slightly, and swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. "Because we believe they could never die. We try to find meaning in death, but there is only pain, and never-ending hatred."

"Cedric-" I stopped to compose myself. "Cedric pretty much died instantly. It was like- like he was considered as trash to Voldemort, not even worth the effort to acknowledge. Voldemort called him the _spare_. And now Cedric's parents are in great pain, because of Riddle. It made me angry, restless. Many time, I searched the depths of my soul, and found I was capable of terrible, indescribable things; and I'm not talking about the lightning."

I stopped for a moment, turning to the headmaster, who was giving me a mixed look of sadness and pride.

"I am sorry, my boy."

"Sorry for what?" I was genuinely curious.

"I should have protected you, all these years. I did not want you to suffer. I thought I was doing what was best, to keep you away from the fame." The man buried his face in his hands, looking every bit the age that he is. It made me squirm uncomfortably. Leaders shouldn't show weakness like this. Damn it to hell, Dumbledore wasn't supposed to be so human! I wanted to be angry at him so badly, but I found myself soothing the man instead.

"It's all right."

"It is not." Dumbledore disagreed vehemently. "I was not capable of guaranteeing your safety last year. The Tournament's binding contract had completely forbidden any help I could have given you. For that, I can never apologize enough."

"Stop beating yourself up over it, old man." I said gruffly, not wanting to deal with that terrible year just yet. The whole thing was a huge blur of successive life-threatening experiences. "I'm alive, you're alive, we can deal with it."

"In fact," I continued, gaining the man's attention. "I had a couple of ideas I wanted to bounce off of you for the trial I have to go to soon. Care to help me?"

"I would be glad to." Dumbledore's smile was almost radiant, his eyes slightly misty, still refusing to meet my own.

"And I hope you'll let me know why you've been avoiding my eyes ever since I stepped foot in this place."

Dumbledore had a slightly sheepish expression on his face. It was so out of place, I had to laugh.

**oooooo**

The days passed quite quickly, as I immersed myself in legal books and the like. Ron was as useful as a sack of potatoes in that regard, but Hermione was a boon. Dudley was helping clean out the house in place of Sirius, who decided to study the books alongside me.

"I would've never thought I would attempt to bond with you by _studying books_." Here, Sirius faked a cringe. "But I'd say it was well worth it."

"Fuck yeah, it was. There is no way they can expel me from Hogwarts now." I had said confidently, though I still felt slightly nervous on the inside. Professor Dumbledore— or Albus, as he'd insisted on me calling him— seemed to agree with the idea that I shared. Of course, the first line of defense would be the fact that I was defending myself, as Hermione had explained; there was a provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery put in place to allow underage students to defend themselves against whatever threat they face.

However, I was going to push for my idea even if I'm cleared of all charges. Since they'd essentially forced me to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which was supposed to be held for adults, I could make the sound argument that I was to be declared an adult. After all, my participation was acknowledged by the British, French and Bulgarian ministries, so there is a legal groundwork to build from.

The trip to the Ministry was something of a blur, as I'd repeated my ideas over and over in my head, not willing to make any mistakes. We signed in at the Ministry, going through all the stupid procedure, and I was finally sporting a badge that said " _Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing_ ". As per the usual course, people stared like I was some kind of circus sideshow, as we went past the many departments to finally reach courtroom ten. Dudley and I entered through the large, grimy door without any hesitation, noting that the dungeon I found myself in was the very same one I'd seen in Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve.

"You're late." I heard a cold, male voice say.

"My apologies, I was under the impression that the hearing was to take place at 9:00 AM?" I asked politely, yet coldly as well.

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," the voice retorted. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

"Indeed?" Dudley and I nonchalantly walked to the mentioned seat, staring up at the body of Wizards before us. "Knowing that an owl traverses the skies at an average speed of forty miles per hour, and considering that the Ministry itself opens at around 7:00 AM, it would've taken the owl to reach my home in around... five hours, give or take ten minutes. Food for thought, perhaps?" I gave a nasty grin, and the Minister had the decency to look slightly cowed. The Wizengamot began to whisper as I took my seat, gazing at the assembly of wizards. Dudley stood next to me.

There were about fifty of them, all wearing dark red robes with an elaborate silver W on the left hand side of the chest. Most were staring at me in curiosity, while some did so with anger. I could care less, and stared at the Minister as he began speaking.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," Fudge began, and I noticed Percy Weasley taking notes off to the side. Huh, the little bitch was here? Fudge continued, "Into offenses committed under the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Interrogators, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley —"

"— Witness for the defense, Dudley Vernon Dursley." I interrupted the dictation.

"And Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Another voice said from behind me. I turned to see Dumbledore pleasantly striding across the room in his midnight-blue robes, looking like he had not a care in the world. He stared up at the assembly, daring them to say anything.

"Ah," Fudge looked disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You — er — got our — er — message that the time and — er — place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done. Although it bears to mention that I would have not received the owl until tomorrow, since I reside at Hogwarts Castle itself."

Good. He had heard my argument, and applied it to himself. If a teenager like me said it, they wouldn't even care. If Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a respectable wizard with a long line of accomplishments said it, it would be taken quite seriously. We succeeded in setting the tone, but the battle was far from over.

"But alas, it is not time for such inquiries just yet." Albus said, interrupting whatever Fudge was going to say, and conjured two chairs right next to mine. With a muttered thanks, Dudley gratefully took his seat.

"Indeed," Fudge shuffled his notes, pulling out a piece of parchment. "The charges against the accused are as follows: that he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar char-"

"Objection!" I called out immediately.

"What?" Fudge lost his momentum.

"The said warning was sent to my house because Dobby the house-elf performed a Hover Charm. I was told by the Ministry workers that the warning would be removed from my record. Was it not done?"

"It is true, Minister." The witch with the monocle said. What's wrong with glasses? "That warning should have been removed from our records a few years ago."

"I see... There must have been an error in our filing." Fudge looked like he ate something sour. "But it still does not excuse the fact that you knowingly conjured the Patronus on the night of the second of August, in the presence of a Muggle, while you are underage!"

"What Muggle?" I asked easily, having rehearsed that part in my head.

"Why, the boy sitting next to you of course. Mr. Dudley Vernon Dursley."

"I see. Mr. Dudley Dursley," I said loudly, not letting them interrupt me. "Is my cousin, first of all. So while I might have violated the Decree for using underage magic, the International Statute of Secrecy has not been violated."

"B-but... Director Bones?" He turned to Amelia.

"His logic is quite sound, though he has admitted to conjuring a Patronus." Amelia answered fairly, giving me an interested, if a little bit annoyed, gaze. Must be because I keep interrupting the fucker in charge. Oh well, no skin off my nose.

"Yes, yes." Fudge tried to get his prosecution rolling again. "So you have conjured a Patronus, knowing that it is illegal to use magic outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"What is the Patronus Charm used for?" I answered with a question of my own.

"Wha- This is no time for lessons, Mr. Potter!"

"Perhaps the boy ought to be restrained..." A witch with a face that made toads look amazing said, while others around her shook their heads in the negative at such a suggestion. They were already in deep, considering that one of them changed the meeting time, knowing full well that the defendants would be late— even some of the Wizengamot members had arrived around twenty minutes before Harry did— and then followed by attempting to tie in the crime to a previous crime that was supposed to be stricken from the records.

"The Patronus Charm," I continued as if I didn't hear Fudge or the toad bitch. "Is an immensely complicated, very difficult spell that evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force known as a **Patronus** or **spirit guardian**. It is the primary protection against Dementors and Lethifolds, to which there is no other protection."

"The point that I'm trying to make here, my fellow wizards," I said before someone could yell at me to get to the point. "Is that I was forced to use the Patronus Charm to ward off a duo of Dementors that had attacked my cousin and I."

The silence was deafening. I looked to Dumbledore, who gave me a nod. So far so good.

"Dementors?" Madam Bones repeated after a moment. "In Little Whinging?"

"I thought we'd be hearing something like this." Fudge quipped gleefully, no doubt thinking the slandering words of the Daily Prophet would back him up.

"I don't understand—" Amelia began.

"Don't you, Amelia?" Fudge asked with a smirk. "Allow me to explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, _very_ nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy?" He asked condescendingly.

"I _did_ see them." Dudley said loudly, and clearly. "They were the most horrifying things I'd seen in my entire life. Everything became so cold, and it felt like I would never be happy again."

"You- What? Muggles can't see dementors! So how could you have seen it?" He sputtered in rage.

"Maybe because he's not a Muggle." I pointed out. "You have no interest in seeking out Squibs born to Muggle families, so you had no way of knowing if he was Squib or Muggle. I believe there is a spell to identify if a person is a Squib or a Muggle?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Madame Bones confirmed, before motioning to one of the nearby Aurors to cast the spell. The man waved his wand in an intricate pattern over Dudley, before nodding and turning to the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Dudley Dursley is a Squib." He announced loudly, before walking back to his position, ignoring the whispers of the Wizengamot.

Feeling that I was getting control, I decided to nip the whole situation in the bud.

"Seeing as we have confirmed that my cousin, Mr. Dursley is a Squib, I repeat the fact that we encountered two dementors on our way home. I was quite aware of the restriction against underage magic, and ordered Mr. Dursley to run to the safety of our home with me. We ran at full sprint, afraid we would die the entire time, for over five minutes. We reached the half-point to the house, when we collapsed in exhaustion. The dementors were not tired in the least. I was forced to defend our lives by casting the Patronus Charm. I believe there is a provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, allowing for self-defense. Is that correct?" I said breathlessly, looking at Amelia Bones. Seemed as if she was the only one interested in upholding the law here.

"That is true, Mr. Potter. We have that provision in place for emergencies such as this. Do you confirm what Mr. Potter has said, Mr. Dursley?"

"I do."

"Anything to add, Mr. Potter?" Fudge seethed angrily. Looks like this wasn't going his way at all.

"Only that I am willing to testify under Veritaserum, and provide Pensieve Memories if you are not already convinced that I was defending myself."

"That will not be needed." Fudge was red with anger, but didn't say anything further. "We shall begin the ruling."

"Those in favor of conviction?" Amelia Bones' voice boomed across the dungeon.

Around a dozen of them raised their hands, Fudge and Umbridge included. And what a surprise, Lucius Malfoy was here. I wonder why his mouth stayed shut? I glanced at Dumbledore next to me, who winked mischievously.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"

The rest of the room, an overwhelming majority, raised their hands. I sighed in relief, but steeled myself; it was time to push my idea forward.

"Excellent." Dumbledore said quickly, springing to his feet, addressing the Wizengamot before they could leave. "However, there is something else Mr. Harry Potter would like bring up."

"Ah- What would that be, Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked, looking at me with badly disguised malice.

"A few things, really." I said nonchalantly, and waved for everyone to sit down. Surprisingly, they complied.

"To begin, I would like for this hearing to be publicized— word, for word, mind you— in the Daily Prophet, with no lies whatsoever. No strange angle. I've been reading that newspaper, and I do _not_ appreciate being called a liar. Nor do I appreciate the fact that I've been tried in front of the entire body of the Wizengamot— I believe that is what happens to _adults_ in the Wizarding World." I stressed the word 'adult.'

"We do not control what the Daily Prophet says." Fudge answered quickly.

"Sure you don't." I gave a smirk in response. "Aside from the article I wish for you to publish, I would like to be declared as an emancipated minor immediately."

THAT got the whispers going.

"On what grounds?" Said a member from the right.

"Yes, we don't exactly give our own children free rein to use their magic, so why should you be allowed?" Another said. There were murmurs of agreement.

"I'm afraid that the law requires you to do so, unfortunately." I said gravely, getting expressions of confusion in return.

"Explain." Madam Bones ordered, not appreciative of my dramatic tone.

"As I've mentioned, I have _just_ been tried as an adult." I repeated, before continuing over Fudge's protest. "And I'm sure you remember the Triwizard Tournament that I won last June?" I got nods of confirmation from the wizards. "The same tournament that required applicants to be _of age_ for the chance to participate. As you know, my name was entered illegally in the hopes that I'd get killed during one of the three tasks we champions had to beat. I was forced to participate thanks to a magically binding agreement that the ministries of Britain, France _and_ Bulgaria acknowledged. In the eyes of the laws of _three different countries_ , I have legally been an adult for over a year. Another point as to why this trial was such a _farce_." I spat out the last word, not caring whether this hurt their sensibilities or not.

I relished in the uncomfortable looks I got from the decrepit old wizards and witches who ruled our population.

Who said stomping on politics wasn't fun?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 6: Emotional Interlude  
**

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione's voice woke me up. Hadn't I told her to clear out, five minutes ago?

Groan. "What is it, woman? Can't you let a man sleep?"

"No! Not after you did what you did!"

"For God's sake." I flung a pillow at her face, before getting up— again. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"Language! Why did you give the prefect badge to _Ron_?" She looked peeved at me.

"Wait, wait." I said with a mischievous grin. "You don't think Ron can handle the responsibility? You think he's untrustworthy?"

She grimaced, before backtracking— baited right into that one! "Well, of course he can handle it... But why would you not want the position, for yourself? It's an important role to have; you would ensure that the rules are followed, and you can set an example to the younger students!"

I had to shake my head at the feeble arguments. Around an hour ago, I received mail from Hogwarts informing me that I made prefect. Yeah, me. You know, the Boy-Who-Gets-In-Trouble-As-Frequently-As-He-Breathes. I came up with that one. Anyway, I got one of those badges, and just gave it to Ron. No hesitation whatsoever. McGonagall had actually delivered the letters personally, so I left immediately after seeing the disappointed and sour look on her face. As if I cared what she thought about me! All she ever did was call me a liar or not take me seriously when I needed her most. Some Gryffindor Head of House!

Ron, on the other hand, was all too glad to accept such a position. I heard Fred and George moaning about it as I was going to my room. It brought a grin to my face when I heard them call me a great hero, for following in their non-prefect footsteps.

"Yes, because I'm a _total_ rule-follower, Hermione." I answered sarcastically, making references to the past years we've been at Hogwarts. "Also, you think I want to babysit some snot nosed brats in my free time? Hell no! Now can I have some peace and quiet?"

"Absolutely not! I can't believe you would—"

All right, this was getting old. I grabbed my wand off of the nightstand and waved it in Hermione's direction.

" _Silencio_."

 _That_ surely did the trick. Hermione was still ranting, but no sound was coming out. It was absolutely hilarious! Am I glad to have pressured the Ministry into lifting the underage magic restrictions on me through a declaration of my emancipation. I could do magic whenever I wanted now; no one could stop me! Unless, you know, I was committing crimes and such. I got off the bed, and walked right past Hermione like she wasn't even there; totally ghosted her. She, of course, stomped right behind me, probably angry beyond words— not that she could utter any at the moment.

Heh.

I ascended the stairs leading out of the basement— rather, my new room— greeting the house-elf who was currently cursing at me. Well, who could blame him, having spent over a decade in the presence of that painting of Sirius' mother? Half a minute with her made me want to obliterate the entire wall she was affixed on. Luckily, she's been nicer as of late, likely due to my frightening presence. After that joke I refer to as a trial, I had Mr. Weasley escort Dudley and I to Number Four, with the promise that I'd show him a computer. Luckily, he had a car— his good old enchanted Ford Anglia had miraculously made its way back to the Burrow, something which amused me immensely...

 **ooooooooooooooo**  
Scene shift - Flash back  
 **ooooooooooooooo**

Anyway, we got to Number Four, where Petunia excessively fussed over Dudley, trying to make sure those nasty, bad, evil, conniving, unnatural freaks didn't hurt him. Dudley grinned in response and told her of how I utterly humiliated them in court, using logical deduction and almost scientific arguments of all things. Petunia actually smiled at me, and gave me a quick hug, while _Vernon gave me a pat on the back_. If I wasn't already getting used to the idea of the Dursleys being nice to me, my mind would have shut down, there and then. Would've probably died from a brain aneurysm.

It was a bit later, when I was packing up my desktop computer in cardboard boxes, that Petunia came in the room, alone.

I gave her a nod, and went back to unhooking the various plugs attached to the computer case, and the screen.

"I'm sorry."

I jerked up, my head smashing against the the wooden desk. I bit back a wince, before turning to Aunt Petunia with astonished eyes. I stood, and intensely gazed at her fidgeting form for a very long moment. Feelings of resentment, ferocious anger, and hate welled up in my being, threatening to overtake me. But as soon as they came, they washed away with the tears streaming down Petunia's face. I realized I'd been harshly glaring at her the whole time. I sighed tiredly, sat next to her, and put an arm around her, not really knowing how to deal with this. She buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing.

I wasn't expecting this.

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to lose you, too... I already lost Lily to that horrible world of racist hypocrites! I thought that if you didn't have any of that magic, you wouldn't be in danger from that world! I'm sorry!" She kept apologizing over and over.

My heart beat faster, and there was a sudden lump in my throat.

"You- I- I-" I tried to speak, but found that I couldn't form any coherent words. She looked into my eyes searchingly.

"Those eyes— they are all I have to remember of Lily, and my father." Her father? My grandfather? I'd always wondered why we didn't have grandparents on Petunia's side of the family. What happened to them?

"They died in a fire caused by an accident in their house. At least, that's what the local police force said. Lily told me they were locked in their house by bad wizards and burned to death when they set the house on fire." Petunia said, as if reading my mind. "The police didn't investigate the occurrence, believing it to be a freak accident. The _wizard_ police didn't care that a _Mug_ g _le_ couple died. Why should they? We're nothing but trash to them. Just trash..." She continued in an almost robotic tone of voice, spitting the words 'wizard' and 'muggle' out like it's venom.

It reminded me of how Mr. Filch was always bitter and resentful towards the students. It seemed that if you weren't a wizard, you were essentially dirt; and, even if you were a wizard, 'blood status' was a very big thing. The so called 'mudbloods' and 'halfbloods' ranked the same as non magical folk. The way the 'purebloods' acted reminded me of Nazism. Instead of white supremacists, they were pureblood supremacists.

So my grandparents from both sides were killed by Death Eaters, huh? Tears threatened to spill, but I scrunched my eyes closed. Sadness quickly gave way to righteous anger.

"Then Lily and James died, and you were dumped on our doorstep without any explanation, except a letter which raised more questions than answers." Petunia continued, gazing at me regretfully. "I knew you were going to be like her. I didn't want you to die like my sister, like my parents."

And I understood. I was angry, but I _understood._ If that shit happened to me, I would probably act like she did. Petunia was completely powerless to stop the deaths of her family. She was trying to save me this entire time...

So I gave her a long hug, and stood over her shaking form, looking like a beacon of strength.

"Don't worry, Aunt Petunia." I gave her a forced smile. "They won't get me. I promise."

That just made her cry even harder.

 **ooooooooooooooo**  
Scene Shift - Flash back end  
 **ooooooooooooooo**

After that little emotional scene, I bid goodbye to the Dursleys, before going back to Grimmauld Place with Mr. Weasley. I hauled the boxes to my new room, which was rendered magic-free; it was a trick that Arthur had figured out a few years back, when enchanting his car to fly and become invisible. Most of his explanation went over my head, honestly. Essentially, it's some kind of rune meant to disallow any interference caused by the ambient magic of the house. The shape and size of the field around it depended on the shape and size of the rune itself. For my room, we used a rune the size of a cubic meter, placing it in the center. It was a slight annoyance to skirt around it, but if it let me run my computer, then I'm all for it.

Figuring out how to feed electricity and internet connection to my room was a bit daunting, but less annoying than you might think. You see, I chose the basement as my room. After ridding it of its various implements of torture— 'what the hell was the Black family doing in here?'— I had the wall colors modified to a calming dark blue, with black carpet covering every inch of the room. Then, to the displeasure of the Order, I hired an electrician and an internet service provider company feed electricity an internet connection to the basement only— confounding the two so they wouldn't ask questions like "why isn't this house on the grid?"

I felt bad about using the Confundus charm on them, but I wanted to conserve our anonymity as much as possible. Maybe I'd worry about such problems after I got rid of Voldemort.

Like I said earlier, the Order— with exceptions like Arthur, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius— wouldn't stop crying about how I was endangering everyone by bringing in these dubious Muggles in. However, I only said two things to the idiots:

1) This isn't your house. So shut the fuck up before I get Sirius to kick you out.

2) I'm paying for this with my own money, so keep your fucking fat nose out of my business.

I took great pleasure in relaying these thoughts to the hapless victims that dared to attempt to overrule my decisions. The only person who had power to tell me what to do was Sirius, and that man didn't judge me, or force me to do something I didn't want to. Honestly, he was like the cool uncle I never got to grow up with. Rather, he _was_ the cool uncle I never got to grow up with.

All in all, the results were greatly satisfying. In the week that followed, I got to catch up on all the Manga I'd been closely following, and managed to torrent a number of movies I've been wanting to watch for a while now. Watched some good old porn. Played some games. Listened to music. More porn...

The loud stomps behind me brought me back to reality. I realized I'd been quietly thinking for a while now, judging by Hermione's angry and confused face. What did I want to do again? Oh, right. Of course. I waved my wand in front of Hermione's face.

" _Finite_. Will you calm down, now?" I asked my friend calmly. She nodded, still looking angry. I almost felt bad. Almost.

"HEY SIRIUS!" I yelled in the large hallway of Grimmauld Place.

"YEAH?" I heard Sirius' shout from the kitchen, and walked over there, Hermione in tow. I walked in to see the man cooking something. Or at least attempting to. The entire kitchen looked like a war zone. Hermione gasped. I grinned.

"What the hell have you been doing, Sirius?"

"I was trying to make pasta." The older man gave me a sheepish look.

"It looks a tsunami made entirely out of tomato sauce came through here." I retorted incredulously, trying to figure out Sirius could screw up making pasta, easily one of the easiest dishes to concoct. Hermione snorted in amusement, eyes twinkling à la Dumbledore.

"Well, I was trying to make the sauce for the pasta, and then everything caught on fire, so I conjured water, but that made everything even worse..." Sirius motioned to the disaster area in front of him, looking quite flustered. "Molly's definitely going to kill me."

"Oh, Sirius." Hermione giggled at his totally lost look, before grabbing a mop and beginning to clean up, with me following suit. With a lot of hard work, and generous use of drying charms, we had the kitchen in working order once more. Wiping the sweat off my brow, I stood next to Sirius and Hermione, feeling slightly parched. I filled a cup with some water, and took a long gulp, enjoying the refreshing feeling it gave.

"So, no cooking from you." I quipped lightly. Sirius tensed, as if wanting to protest, but gave up, slouching.

"Sorry, I just wanted to be slightly useful to you guys. All I could do was let Dumbledore use this place as Headquarters. Other than that, I'm totally useless." Sirius said sullenly. I suddenly felt bad for teasing him. Was I really being that inconsiderate?

"Don't say that, Sirius!" Hermione protested, biting her lip. "You most certainly are not useless!"

I set the mop against the wall, before turning to my Godfather. I placed a hand on his shoulders, making him look at me.

"Come on. Let's get out of this dreary house for a while." I said with a smile, and led him out of the room. Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but one look from me shut her up. We made our way out of the kitchen, and through the hallway, taking a detour to my basement. I began sifting through random clothes that I bought this summer.

"What are we doing here, Harry?" Sirius asked curiously, glancing curiously at the computer to the side. I found the items I needed. I threw a short sleeve hoodie, some jeans and a sports cap to Sirius.

"Wear these, and you'll be unrecognizable to anyone." I said, as I began to wear mine. He did the same. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he stared in confusion, not understanding how such a simple disguise would work.

"I know what you're thinking: 'how could this disguise possibly work?' The answer is pretty simple, yet complex at the same time." I gained Sirius' attention. He nodded to me, silently prompting me to continue. "I'll start with examples. What would you expect someone like Lucius Malfoy to wear?"

"Luxurious robes made of fine silk, probably carrying a cane tipped with some manner of jewelry."

"And what would you expect, uh, Ollivander to wear?"

"Old robes."

"Dumbledore?" I pressed on.

"Some weird colorful robes."

"What would Professor McGonagall be wearing?"

"...Robes." Sirius seemed to be catching on, I think.

"I see you're finally understanding what it is I'm trying to tell you." I smiled widely. "The beauty of this disguise is that it works on people's misconceptions. So, what would people from the wizarding world expect the pureblood Death Eater, Sirius Black to wear?"

Sirius winced at the description of him, but answered my question nonetheless. "They'd expect me to be wearing robes, because no Death Eater would ever stoop to the level of wearing Muggle clothing."

"Exactly. People see what they want to see." I grinned. We made our way to the hallway, again. Hermione was there, looking a little worried.

"Hermione, if someone asks where we are, tell them we're taking a stroll outside, will you? Thanks." I said, and left the house, Sirius following suit, after telling her not to worry.

I could tell Sirius was beyond nervous, as we crossed out of the Fidelius threshold, and onto the public sidewalk. We stood there for a few seconds. Sirius' relief became palpable.

"See? No Aurors, no Death Eaters." I laughed, considerably easing the man's worries. He took a deep breath, smelling the free air, and smiled. I hadn't seen him smile so widely since he rode off into the night on Buckbeak. I walked alongside my Godfather for a while, letting him savor the moment.

A jingling sound caught my attention. I turned my head to the side, noticing a small pizza place.

"Come on." I nudged the dog animagus, moving to cross the road. "Let's get some pizza."

"Pizza!" Sirius looked excited.

We entered the shop, and ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese. No one seemed to recognize either of us. Why would they? Muggles have never heard of Harry Potter, and the only picture they have of Sirius Black was one in which he wore his prison rags; a picture which already faded into distant memory. The general public would not remember the picture of some random killer— London was full of them. Wizards wouldn't look twice at what appeared to be a Muggle. Hell, most wouldn't even look once.

The meal was pretty damn good. Sirius looked like he was in heaven, as he happily devoured most of the pizza, burning the roof of his mouth in the process. We chatted about random, inane things. Everyday stuff. It was very pleasant. Sirius told me some amusing stories about his time in Hogwarts.

"And that's how Remus' date went."

"I can't believe you did _that_ to him. You guys are beyond hilarious." I chortled, and took a sip of pepsi.

"What about you, Mr. Potter? Find yourself a nice girl, yet?" Sirius winked suggestively as he took a bite out of a slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Nah." I answered easily. "There was this girl that I fancied last year, but I've seen some things to make me want to stay away from her."

"Oh?" Sirius leaned in, slightly interested. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong with her." I answered. "She's just not my type, you know?"

"I _don't_ know." Sirius teased, with a smile.

"Not curvy enough, I guess." I thought about my answer as I spoke. "Plus, she seemed kind of bitchy, now that I think about it. Very needy." I did remember Cedric often looking quite annoyed with Cho...

Sirius grimaced, before nodding solemnly. "People like that exist, unfortunately."

"So what do you want in a girl, then?" Sirius continued.

"Well..." I started. "You've seen Fleur?"

Sirius gave a mischievous smile.

"Fleur's pretty hot, and smart to boot. She was a Triwizard Champion, remember?" I explained quickly. "I wouldn't mind someone like Tonks, either. I guess, my idea of a perfect woman is someone that is smart, pretty, and independent. I don't want someone who's high maintenance. I also don't want someone who just wants the Boy-Who-Lived. That's not me."

"Any girl you know that fits that criteria?"

A few came to mind.

"Eh.. Ginny, I guess?" Sirius gave me an amused smirk. "I haven't... really socialized outside of my house much. Cho is a cute face, but that's about it. I guess Susan Bones from Hufflepuff is pretty cute, but she believed I was the Heir of Slytherin during my Second Year, so she's out..." I mused. "In Gryffindor... Well, Parvati and Lavender are too giggly for me. Hermione, well... she'd basically nag me to death, then bring me back as a ghost and nag me some more. You should've seen her earlier, when I gave my prefect badge to Ron.. Had to silence her with a spell."

Sirius barked out a laugh.

"Anything else? What about Slytherin?"

"Slytherin?" I looked at my Godfather incredulously. "Why should I even consider them?"

"Come now, Harry. Not all Slytherin is made of gits like Snivellus and Malfoy." Sirius admonished, before grinning. "There were many Slytherin girls I've had the opportunity to.. get intimate with. They're just what you're looking for, as well! Smart, cunning, independent, and pretty!"

A flash of a Slytherin girl with honey golden hair and blue eyes appeared to the forefront of my mind. I shook my head. No way in hell that was going to happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 7: All Aboard The Fun Train!  
**

September 1st, 7 AM.

I sped around my practice room— formerly an unused room— lightning covering every inch of my body. I punched and kicked, as if fighting an enemy only I could see. I quickly jumped to the left, before deciding to run laps around the room. I pushed myself to my very limits, zooming from corner to corner with incredible speed. Granted, it didn't hold a candle to my Firebolt's speed, but what _could_ compare to that? I jumped, and practiced propelling myself in to the right; and then to the left; I'd learned that little trick a week ago, and have been practicing it almost nonstop. The idea behind it was that the expelled energy functioned like a rocket. If I blasted the lightning to the left, I would be propelled to the right, and vice versa. With enough power, I could probably fly under my own power! How cool was that?

I landed steadily in front of the wall.

" **Breakdown Fist** **!** " Lightning danced along the length of my arm, quickly coalescing into my closed fist. I looked at my fist briefly, scrutinizing it, before smashing it into the wall, easily causing a small crater to form. Cracks began spreading over the entire wall as it slightly shook from the sudden pressure.

" _Reparo_." I quickly repaired the wall, before frowning in thought. I thought I could break right through the wall with that kind of energy. Stone is definitely stronger than wood, that's for sure! Still, the amount of strength needed to actually dent a solid stone wall had to be quite staggering. I even greatly shortened the time required to charge up the attack. Progress was definitely being made, even though it wasn't going as fast I would've liked.

I extended my fingers, and channeled the lightning once more. I hesitated to try this again. A few days ago, I attempted to pierce through the wall by extending my fingers, and thrusting towards the wall, as if I was thrusting a knife to pierce it. It actually did slightly pierce the wall, but hurt like hell. I supposed, that punching the wall hurt less because the damage— which was considerably dampened to the energy surrounding my fist— was distributed evenly along the frontal area of my fist. With the tip of my fingers being a much smaller area to cover, I supposed it made sense that it hurt that much more.

I took a deep breath, and thrust my fingers into the wall again, this time refining the energy so that it imitated a piercing blade. The attacked buried my hand, up to its knuckles into the wall. A sharp stab of pain shot through my hand. I'd pierced the wall, but it still managed to hurt me.

Wall: 2, Harry Potter: 0.

"SHIT! FUCK!" I grit my teeth, pulling my hand out of the wall. I tried to move my fingers, only to wince as that little attempt failed. The bruises hurt quite a bit. I quickly made my way to my room, and grabbed an ice pack out of my fridge— quite a necessary addition, if I do say so myself— applying it to my bruised fingers. The pain receded, thankfully. That was the end of this practice session, it seemed. Perhaps next time, I should try on weaker materials. I would work on piercing wooden objects, and slowly move up. Actually, from that point of view, I'd actually done pretty well for my second try.

When it's complete. I'll call it **Edge** , after an attack used by a character in the Naruto manga.

I grabbed a coke from of the fridge, and sat in front of the computer. I opened up my browser, and found the bookmark I was looking for. Salty Bet; a website that streamed unlikely fights between characters from different games/books/comics/anime, and made people bet on who was going to win. It wasn't _actual_ money being exchanged here, but it was still a very fun activity.

"Come on, get those bets in!" I heard the stream prompt, as inappropriate music played in the background of the fighting simulator I was watching. Why would anyone put Beethoven in the background of a fight between Son Goku and Super Mario? That was beyond surreal. I sat there for half an hour, watching the ridiculous fights, and reading the hilarious comments that the twitch community posted every other second. Wait a minute.. Did I just see what I think I saw?

In bold letters, " **Ronald McDonald vs Colonel Sanders** " was on the screen. The epic fight of the day, most likely. The stream chat erupted in celebration, everyone claiming to bet all their in game money on either Ronald or Sanders. The fight that ensued was one of the most devastating, ridiculous fights I'd ever watched in my time on this site. Ronald's main weapon of choice was a tsunami of cheeseburgers, while Colonel Sanders seemed to throw cardboard boxes of chicken nuggets all over the place. In a matter of seconds, the area was flooded with burgers and nuggets, in one of the most epic struggles witnessed by basement-dweller-kind. The fact that the background music was "I'm a Barbie Girl, In a Barbie world" did not detract from the sheer epic-ness of it. Not one bit.

Well, okay. Maybe a little. I ended up losing all the money I had. Ronald had won the battle, putting me into back what was affectionately referred to as "The Salt Mines". I sighed, and got off the computer. My hand was beginning to feel better. The swelling was considerably reduced, which was a good thing. I could actually move my fingers now!

I went to the kitchen, intent on getting some breakfast. I saw everyone hustling and bustling, all stressed out over the trip we were going to make to the Hogwarts Express. I slipped into the kitchen, unnoticed by all except Sirius, who seemed to be starving. I gave him a pitying look.

"There's some leftover pizza in the fridge in my room." I revealed, and he bolted. Half a minute later, he came back with a box of a half eaten pizza. He cast a warming charm on it, and we began to eat in a companionable silence, enjoying the last few moments we were going to have together.

"Harry, dear?" Molly Weasley's voice came from the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley." I politely answered. Ever since I barged into that meeting, the older woman was cross with me, until the moment I witnessed her face a boggart. It showed everyone she knew and loved dead— including me. I told her that wouldn't happen, that I would destroy an entire army with my bare hands before ever letting something like that happen. She seemed to warm up to me after that. I gestured at the pizza in front of me. "Want some pizza?"

"No, thank you, dear." She refused, before getting to the point. "I was just seeing if you were all packed for school. Everyone else seems completely lost."

"Oh, yes. I preemptively did all my packing last night to avoid all the confusion!" I grinned, motioning to the totally lost Ron, who was looking for his toothbrush— which the twins had hid away for shits and giggles.

"Oh, all right, then. Best get back to preparing!" And with that, Molly went to make sure her children were all set. Sirius snorted, and we shared an amused grin.

"Sure going to miss having you around, kid." Sirius said sadly.

"Yeah, I'm going to miss you too, old man." I answered back cheekily, making him frown.

"I'm not _that_ old."

"True." I smiled. "Don't forget, if you ever start feeling all cooped up, just take a walk outside."

Sirius smiled back. "Yeah. Honestly, I still can't believe how no one recognized me." He mused.

"And if you get bored, well... I've shown you how to use my computer." I continued. "Plenty of games on there, and then there's the internet itself. Feel free to experiment. I've left a couple of notes that give you a basic list of websites to visit. And if you see some advertisements promising to make your life easier by finding you a russian/black/chinese/whatever wife, try not to click it, will you? The same goes for promises of penis enlargement, fake girls trying to communicate with you, etc." I waved dismissively, not wanting to go too much into detail. "You'll figure out what's good or bad. If you need any advice, just call me in that mirror you gave me. All right? Though, above all—"

"Yes, _mom_. Never use any kind of magic near your machines." Sirius rolled his eyes at me. "Lighten up, will you?"

"Fine." I huffed, before grinning. "I guess I was starting to sound like Mrs. Weasley, with all the rules and stuff."

"Yes." Sirius answered, with a— dare I say— serious look on his face. "Try not to do that again. It was creepy."

"Yes, well..." I sighed. "Ah, fuck it. Go nuts. Have fun."

"I could say the same to you, Harry!" Sirius retorted. "You better hook up with a girl this year, all right?"

"I'll do my best, sir!" I gave a mock salute, before giving him a long manly hug and leaving for Hogwarts.

Hours after I left, when Sirius made his way to my computer, he saw the a message that made him roar in laughter:

" _Thought that this would loosen you up a little bit._  
You seem really stressed out all the time, so I compiled  
an extensive amount of pictures and movies of the, ahem,  
adult kind. Essentially, PORNOGRAPHY. Enjoy! Also, you never  
read this particular message, okay?  


 _-Your evil Godson, Harry._ "

**ooooooooooooooo**

The trip to the train station was not really noteworthy. We made the trip in semi-uncomfortable silence. The adults seemed to think that Death Eaters were going to pop right out of the woodwork to kill us. Considering that Voldemort wanted to keep his anonymity intact, the appearance of Death Eaters was highly unlikely. It seemed, however, that logical thinking was out of our guards' capabilities. Either that, or Moody forced them to be on guard for this. That guy really needed to lighten up. He took things way too seriously, in my opinion. Oh, he was definitely a very powerful wizard, to be sure, but still a total loon.

After bidding goodbye to the Weasley family, and our guard— Tonks had insisted on an inordinately long hug, followed by inappropriate suggestive lewd comments— we boarded the train. I didn't bother waiting for Ron and Hermione, already knowing that they had to go to meet with the other prefects and the Head Boy/Girl. I remember Percy yammering about it in Third Year. Ginny, it seemed, was off doing her own thing.

At least she's no longer trying to follow me around. I walked through the carriages, uncaring of the suspicious looks I seemed to be getting. Trash, the lot of them. I saw Neville, trying to lug his trunk around, while holding his frog Trevor at the same time. He looked like he was going through a marathon.

"Yo, Neville." I said from right behind him. The boy jumped, almost dropping the frog.

"Hi, Harry." Neville panted, giving me a disapproving look. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry." I said with a smile, taking the trunk from his hands. "Let me help you with that. Trevor looks like he's putting up a pretty decent fight."

"You don't have to..." Neville began weakly.

"True. But I want to." And like that, we began a great search for an empty compartment.

"...Where's your trunk, anyway?" Neville asked, as we passed by some students.

"In my pocket." I grinned widely. "It's nice, being able to use magic outside of school."

"I read about that in the paper." Neville hedged carefully, as we stopped a half empty compartment. "I didn't know whether it was a lie or not, since the Prophet's been posting tons of lies about you all summer long. So it's true?"

"Which part? Hold that thought, Neville." I said, as I entered the compartment, seeing a girl. She had waist length, dirty blond hair. She looked very weird, what with her necklace made out of butterbeer caps, the wand tucked behind her ear, and the upside down magazine she was currently reading.

"Mind if we sit with you? Everywhere else is full." I started amiably. The girl nodded, watching me stow Neville's trunk away. Nevile and I sat next to each other, facing the other two girls.

"Thank you." I smiled at the blonde, before turning to Neville once more.

"You're Harry Potter." The dirty-blond haired girl said in a dreamy voice.

"Sure am! What's your name, blonde stranger who's currently reading a magazine upside down?" I answered back without missing a beat. Neville gave me an almost amused look.

"Oh, thank you for noticing that! I'm Luna." She said with a smile. "Luna Lovegood. I'm a year behind you, in Ravenclaw." She turned to Neville. "I don't know who you are, though. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just a nobody." Neville said quickly.

"Yeah, right!" I retorted, before looking at Luna. "This guy here is the smartest Herbology student I've ever met in my life, and had the guts to stand up to me, Ron and Hermione combined. Neville Longbottom, don't you ever forget that name."

Neville blushed at the reference, but did not make an attempt to refute whatever I said. Good! I turned back to Neville.

"So, which part?" I asked again.

"Well, did you really attend a trial for using the Patronus charm on dementors?" Neville asked.

I nodded.

"And can you really use magic outside of school now?"

"Yep."

"What about—"

"Yeah. I owned those decrepit old fucks, using basic logic, and their own laws against them." I nodded, and Neville visibly restrained himself from gaping, as I explained how it was possible for me to become emancipated. Since three different ministries acknowledged the fact I was competing in a tournament strictly for adults, I was automatically an adult.

"I goes both ways, you know?" I finished with a smirk.

"I can't believe you were tried for defending yourself." Neville shook his head. "Gran was saying it was a complete travesty of justice, and a grave insult to the Potter Family."

"I suppose." I gave a noncommittal answer. "I guess they did go overboard when they tried me as an adult."

Neville just shook his head in response.

"Harry, the Potters have always been a family with a lot of political clout." Neville informed me, as if he was talking about the weather. "The fact that the Prophet has been having a go at you would've been met with an excessively harsh response twenty years ago."

"Yeah, well." I drawled lazily. "I dealt with it. If people don't want to believe me, they can go fuck themselves, for all I care."

I got up at the sound of the food trolley.

"You guys want snacks? I think I hear the trolley lady passing by."

"I'll pass."

"Perhaps some liquorice wands?" Luna asked eagerly. I gave a nod, and left the compartment. A few students were gathered around the old trolley lady, picking out various candies. I got in line, and waited for my turn, ignoring the stares I always seemed to get for merely existing. I peeked into different compartments, as I waited for the few blokes in front of me to finish their business. One compartment was filled with first years, judging by the lack of color on their robes. The other one...

I saw the girl I'd been thinking about for a while, thanks to Sirius' constant reminders of me needing a girlfriend. She had golden, shoulder length hair, and blue eyes. She'd been looking at me, before I glanced in her direction. She was in her Hogwarts' uniform, the insignia and colors of Slytherin House proudly displayed for the world to see. Her tie was quite loosened up, and my eyes darted momentarily to her lips and chest, my mind going a mile a minute. She seemed to be scrutinizing me, as well. I felt distinctly self conscious, all of a sudden.

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" The old lady got my attention, a shadow of a smirk on her face. She'd noticed my staring, huh.

I grabbed a liquorice wand, and a few chocolate frogs, before paying the old woman. I turned to face the compartment that the girl— Daphne Greengrass— was in, and hesitated. Was this really a good choice? Malfoy had colored my perceptions of the Slytherin House. But that was it, right? It was _Malfoy_ that was a complete douche bag, not _Slytherin_ itself. I shouldn't judge an entire house because of one person. Besides, Slytherin wasn't the only House that produced evil wizards; Pettigrew came to mind. Percy was turning out to be a pretty shitty person, as well.

My mind made up, I walked to the compartment entrance. There were only two girls. One was Daphne, and the other was a girl with auburn hair that reached the middle of her back. I seemed to have interrupted their conversation.

"To what do we owe the honor, Potter?" The auburn haired girl said guardedly, though she glanced at Daphne for a moment. What was that about?

"Sorry for interrupting." I said politely, feeling incredibly nervous. My palms were sweating, and my heart was beating like there was no tomorrow. What the hell was wrong with me? "I just wanted to say— er— hello." I ran my hand through my hair. "I'll just go, then. Bye.."

And I practically bolted out of there. I just booked it. Fuck!

Nice one, Potter! You totally showed them your overflowing confidence! The trip back to my compartment felt more like a walk of shame, really. I entered my compartment, closing the door behind me, gave Luna the candy she'd requested, and sat down next to Neville, munching on my chocolate frog, trying to forget about that event ever taking place. What if the two girls talked about it? I could become the laughing stock of the school in no ti— wait, wasn't I _already_ the laughing stock of the school?

Damn it all to hell. My once chance to make a good first impression, down the drain...

I did not even notice the extra person in the compartment. When I finally came to my senses, I saw that it was Ginny who was sitting in front of me; and looking at me, too.

"Something on my face?" I asked self consciously, rubbing my cheeks. "Maybe some chocolate?"

"N-No..." Ginny answered with a blush. "It's nothing."

Before I could say anything, the compartment door slid open, revealing...

"Well, well, well, Potter. I see you haven't made prefect." The drawling voice of Draco Malfoy made itself known to us. As usual, his two bodyguards stood behind him threateningly. "How does it feel to know you're second best to Weasley?" The blonde ponce asked tauntingly.

Ah, a little distraction from the royal screw-up with Daphne. Now, this I could work with.

"Shows how much you know, genius." I retorted, a smirk automatically on my face. "I gave my prefect badge to Ron, when McGonagall herself delivered it to me. Who in their right mind would _want_ to spend their time taking care of some fucking snot nosed brats? I guess you are more foolish than I originally thought."

Malfoy sputtered, not having expected that quick retort. As if any of these kids could trash talk me! I'm a denizen of the motherfucking internet, bitch! No one can out-trash talk me, except perhaps another fellow basement dweller. Even then, I could just default to rule number 27: "Always question a person's sexual preferences without any real reason."

"You better watch yourself, Potter. Or I'll put you in detention." Did he really just say that? That was so ridiculous, I had to laugh. Quite uproariously, in fact. Watching his face go red with impotent anger made me laugh even harder.

"Think that's funny, do you?" Draco was seething. "You'll get yours, soon enough. You, the weasel and that filthy mudblood!"

I abruptly stopped laughing, giving the self proclaimed prince of Slytherin a stone cold look. The sudden change seemed to unnerve those around me.

"You know, Draco." I started conversationally, as I stood up calmly. "We both know about your new _house guest_ for this summer." I referenced to Voldemort without a single care in the world, taking his silence as a clear sign for me to continue. "Let me tell you a little secret. Just between us."

I approached the boy, who forced himself to stay put. Refusing to show weakness, perhaps? I couldn't care less, right now.

"Earlier this summer, I told Dumbledore that I was going to cripple and maim every single Death Eater that got in the way between Voldemort and I." I said with a smile, as if I was talking about the weather. Everyone flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, and looked slightly green at my admission.

Draco didn't answer, but his gradually paling skin seemed to be answer enough.

"So I'll give you this one warning." He began to back off as I advanced further and further. "Mess with me, and I'll destroy you, and your pureblood pride. I'll make you beg for death, and then I would leave you alive, to prolong whatever suffering I choose to inflict upon your pathetic self. You think your father can stop me? He's a joke compared to me! You think Voldemort will save you from me? He cares for nothing but his own life. You have no true allies, no notable power to speak of, and not a sliver of a chance against me. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth, you snot nosed wimp?" I whispered threateningly in his ears.

No answer. He was completely frozen in fear.

" _I said_..." I roughly grabbed him by the neck, making him jump. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"

Draco nodded quickly. I looked into his frightened eyes for a few moments.

"Good!" I let go, and sat back down. I began to munch on my chocolate frogs, as if I didn't threaten him just now. My fingers were stinging in pain again, not having fully healed from my attempt at using **Edge**. I silently promised myself I'd get better.

"You may go." I waved dismissively at his form. He bolted out of the room like hell itself was on his heels. A really small part of me felt bad about doing that to him, but he needed a wake up call. He needed to realize his side of the war was the wrong one. Hugs, and flowery words of love weren't going to get to him. Overwhelming force, however...

"Harry..." Neville said after a while. I realized the compartment had been silent for a minute.

"Wicked!" Ginny said with a grin. I shook my head.

"It needed to be done." I said simply, feeling drained. "There was no other way to make him understand that I'm not dicking around any more. War is coming."

And with that last, cryptic statement, I stared out of the window, tuning everything out. Could do with some nice music right about now... Maybe fifty minutes of Fairy Tail battle music. Erza's theme! Perhaps some good old Dragon Force...

**oooooooooo**

"The fuck is this thing?" I blurted out, as Ginny, Neville, Luna and I were boarding the carriage. Ron and Hermione had taken another carriage ahead of us. "Looks like an Abraxan.. but almost starved to death. An undead Abraxan, maybe? Is that even a thing?"

"There's nothing there, Harry."

"What the hell do you mean 'there's nothing there'? Use your eyes!" I pointed right at the beast, which gave me a curious gaze.

"Um.. Harry, I don't see anything there." Ginny was looking a little worried now.

"Don't worry, Harry." Luna said dreamily. "I see them too."

I didn't really feel reassured by that.

"Me too, Harry." Neville added in. "That's a thestral. You can only see them if you've seen death."

"I... see." I said slowly, giving the weird horse thing— thestral, I reminded myself— a final glance, before boarding the carriage as well. The thestral began taking us to the castle, as I settled in. So watching Cedric die gave me the power to see these things?

"Wait..." I started, Neville's last statement not really computing. "They're only visible if you've seen death?"

"Yes." Neville confirmed in a grave tone of voice.

"I've killed plenty of ants before. And I watched my cousin flush his still living fish down a toilet, too." I said, remembering the good old childhood days of killing ants for kicks; you know, before running away from Dudley who wanted to beat me up. And poor Bob the Fish, too. "Why couldn't I see them before now?"

"...I don't really know." Neville answered in confusion.

"I mean." I continued, undaunted. "A death is a death, right?"

"That's true, I guess." Neville said unsure. "It has to be the death of a person, though."

The death of a person made a little more sense... Wait, no. I shook my head.

"But Quirrell died in front of me at the end of First Year." I refuted that theory using delicious logic.

Neville paled a little at that. "You've seen Quirrell die?"

I gave him a look. "I thought everyone knew about that. He had Voldemort sticking out the back of his head. Plus, apparently, he was highly allergic to my touch, seeing as it, you know, burnt him to ashes."

"Right..."

"It could be because the loss of Cedric was much more important to you than Quirrell?" Ginny asked, before grimacing at her lack of tact. "I'm sorry. I should just shut up, huh?"

"Nah, it's all right." I waved it off. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, Ginny." She smiled at that. "You might actually be right, though. It might be related to a sense of loss, more than simply witnessing death."

So it had to be the death of someone you had attachments to. Made sense. Still, that was some strange way to be invisible. Then again, this could be some form of micro-evolution. Invisibility was most certainly a good trait to propagate among the species. Prey won't notice something invisible, would it? The demiguises did something pretty similar, with their own brand of invisibility, didn't they?

The topic changed, when Neville decided to talk about his new plant that his uncle got him. Mimbulus something. Sounded pretty fascinating, really. I'd been watching documentaries here and there, curious about the creatures that live on our planet. The plant that Neville was describing reminded me of skunks. They stinked up whatever was attacking them, too.

Hogwarts was getting bigger and bigger as we approached the castle even further.

I briefly wondered what kind of life-threatening experience I was going to go through _this time_ , and suddenly grinned, to the confusion of the three around me.

"Voldemort riding a Nundu, for sure." I thought out loud, nodding confidently. They gaped at me.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Ginny blurted out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

_**"It's too late to regret. Reality is just cruelly moving forward."** _ **\- Uchiha Obito (Naruto, Chapter 597)**

****ooooooooooooooo** **

**Chapter 8: Power Plays  
**

"GRYFFINDOR!" Cheers arose.

"Can we get this over with...?" I grumbled in annoyance, watching yet another kid get sorted. "For god's sake, it's taking centuries. And I'm getting hungry."

"I hear ya, mate." Ron quipped, looking as bored as I currently felt. Couldn't the kids get sorted an hour earlier, or something? Maybe a day earlier. Inefficiency like this was simply unconscionable.

"The Sorting Hat's song was pretty damn strange, though."

"It's rarely given out warnings before..." Hermione added in her two cents. "Only a few, I've read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"Perhaps it's a sign?" Neville wondered. "A sign for all the houses to unite."

"House Unity? You won't find me making friends with the snakes, anytime soon, mate." Ron immediately said, grimacing. Our fellow Gryffindors around us nodded in agreement.

I glanced in the direction of the Slytherin table, and searched for a certain girl I wouldn't mind 'uniting' with, if you know what I mean. There she was, sitting right next to her endlessly chattering friend, staring at the enchanted ceiling, with her golden hair, and pretty blue eyes, and that delicious creamy skin... I looked away when it seemed she was about to turn her head in my direction. I felt self conscious. Was she looking at me, right now? My face felt hot. I turned to my friends, and saw Hermione giving me the most peculiar look. Had she caught me ogling Daphne? Crap!

Commence operation: damage control!

"Hermione." I said in faux-surprise, pointing at the top of her head. "What's that on your head? It looks really weird."

"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat announced as Hermione began fiddling with her bushy hair, self consciously.

I grinned, watching her screwing with her hair for at least ten seconds, before saying, "Oh, my mistake, Hermione. That's just hair. Sorry."

The glare she gave me could melt cold steel. Crisis averted! She leveled the full force of her glare to a snickering Ron, who paled immediately as he attempted to apologize, stuttering à la Quirrell the whole while. It was so hilarious, Hermione giggled.

"Zeller, Rose." McGonagall called out. My ears perked up. The letter Z meant that this was close to being over!

"HUFFLEPUFF!" And the girl in question trotted off to the Hufflepuff table. McGonagall grabbed the Sorting Hat, along with the stool it sat upon, before moving away. Dumbledore stood up, extending his arms in a wide gesture of welcome.

"To our newcomers," The old man smiled. "Welcome! To our old hands— welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

And just like that, the tables were filled with various foods of all kinds. Ron immediately began to pile chops on his plate, while stuffing his mouth with some bread. Hermione gave him a disgusted look, before beginning to eat as well, easily tuning him out; a feat made possible through much experience. I grabbed some steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy. No pepsi, though. What was the world coming to, when you couldn't get a can of pepsi whenever you wanted? Curse the wizards for not knowing about soda!

I moodily began to eat the steak, stabbing at the meat with great satisfaction. It was delicious as ever, of course, and that lifted my spirits a tad. That was until I automatically grabbed at nothing with my left hand. I was so used to grabbing a can while pulling all nighters in front of my computer.

"This sucks." I frowned and gave a long suffering sigh.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked curiously, between mouthfuls.

"There's no pepsi, damn it!" I pointed out, upset. "I'm addicted, I need my fix!"

Ron, having tried the cool, fizzy beverage, nodded sadly.

Dean Thomas laughed a ways away, having heard my outburst. "Don't worry, Harry! You can ask the elves for it in the kitchens!"

"Really?" I immediately perked up. "For real?"

"Yeah." The boy confirmed.

"Awesome! Thanks, Dean!"

"No problem, mate." And Dean went back to eating. Maybe the world wasn't as horrible as I thought it was. Wonder what elves would look like if they were hopped up on caffeine? They're _already_ hyperactive little shits, as it is. What does that make them, _Super_ Hyperactive Little Shits?

"They'd need a power level of at least one hundred and fifty million to even qualify, though." I muttered to myself, thinking about the online arguments in Dragon Ball Z about how Son Goku's Super Saiyan power level is actually 150,000,000 and not 15,000,000 as some claim. Of course, using basic mathematics, knowing Goku had a PL of 3,000,000 to begin with, and _also_ knowing that employed the use of Kaioken x20, which put his power level at 60,000,000... There was no way that 15,000,000 was his Super Saiyan level. And yet, there STILL were people claiming that it's 15,000,000. Stubborn idiots just needed to crawl back into their holes and stop trying to sound smart.

"What's that, Harry?" Neville said, perplexed. "I didn't quite understand what you've just said."

"Nothing, just talking to myself, that's all." I smiled at the boy, who dropped it with a shrug. The noise level of the Great Hall was rising, as students and faculty finished, or were in the process of finishing their meals. Dumbledore stood up again. Speech time!

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices." Dumbly-door said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students— and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." Ron and Hermione smirked in my direction. I returned it with equal fervor.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time." Does he keep track? Sheesh. "To remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

Dumbledore took a quick breath, and began speaking in his jovial tone once more. "We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also _delighted_ —" Was that a shift in the tone I detected? "—to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

I clapped halfheartedly, and glanced at Umbridge, remembering that she was the one who tried to have me restrained during my trial. Bitch.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

" _hem, hem_." Umbridge stood up, though she was not that much taller than the chair she sat on. Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, taken aback, before sitting back down in his chair and looked expectantly at Umbridge. I bit back a laugh at Dumbledore's amusing antics. The old fuck gave no shits about the Ministry's interference, whatsoever. He was just messing with her, and she didn't even know it! The other Professors looked shocked and a little miffed at her current course of action.

The witch in the pink cardigan opened her mouth to speak.

"And _that_ , kiddies." I said a little bit too loudly, before she could say anything. "Is the _clumsiest_ power play I've ever seen in my entire life."

Everyone was looking at me now. I gave everyone a charming, innocent smile, and looked at the teachers. Dumbledore gave me a cautionary, and amused look in response. Snape was currently giving me his Death Glare patch 3.21™, or was it 3.22? I can't keep track of the versions anymore. Minerva's lips were pursed, and she stared at me sternly. Probably still sore about me not wanting to be prefect, I guess. The other professors all looked a mix of disapproving and annoyed. Umbridge glared with ill concealed malice.

"What?" I said in mock confusion, motioning to Umbridge. "I thought we were allowed to _interrupt the Headmaster while he was speaking_. My mistake! Carry on then, esteemed Professor. Just forget I said anything." I settled back down, and stared at a slightly embarrassed Umbridge, the same way Dumbledore was doing before— and was back to doing now. The other students were sharing half bewildered, half amused looks.

"Ahhh— hem, hem." Umbridge said after collecting her thoughts. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

And she began to drone. She sounded like jail bait, with a sugary sweet voice that reminded me of cute little girls. It did not fit with her image at all. The fat bitch kept on talking in the dreaded language of the lawyer, which is, essentially taking one sentence, and expanding it into seven different sentences which basically said the exact same thing; that the Ministry considered the education of young witches and wizards important. Then she went on saying that progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and then— paradoxically— went to talking about how we should move forward to an era of 'openness, effectiveness'; and then, talked about how some practices were ought to be prohibited. No specifics whatsoever. Wouldn't want to incriminate ourselves, would we?

She sat back down. Dumbledore clapped, as well as the other teachers— though it was like, twice. Honestly, after hearing that speech, I was surprised they didn't disembowel her where she stood. Picking her statement apart made anger rise in me. They wanted to limit us. If they knew about my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, they'd probably abduct me to either extract my secrets, or kill me outright for using dark magic or something. The stagnation and ill will of the Wizarding world had coalesced and was finally rearing its ugly head. This was only the beginning of something truly despicable. Freedom of thought was in danger and, as much of an aloof jerk I pretended to be sometimes, I would never endanger freedom of thought.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." Dumbledore gave a small bow to Umbridge. "Now— as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held—"

I tuned him out, turning to Hermione. We shared a knowing, grim look.

"It certainly was illuminating." Hermione said.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said, giving Hermione an incredulous look. "That was the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with _Percy_."

"Nice one." I chuckled, bumping fists with the soulless ginge- I mean, redheaded friend.

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable." Hermione said irritably. "It explained a lot."

"It did?" Ron asked dumbly. "I didn't really pay attention to what she was saying. She was almost as boring as Binns."

"She tried to feed a load of horse shit down our throats, mate." I said immediately, ignoring my year mates' gasps around me.

"First she starts sucking up to the teachers and students by saying: 'Oh, we at the Ministry _just love_ the children's education'. Where's that love been before, eh?" I looked around to my fellow students.

"They couldn't give two shits about us three years ago, when students were being petrified left and right; or two years ago, when dementors were our unofficial truancy officers, traumatizing a good bit of us. Am I right, or not?" I got nods of agreement, and some shivers. I was not the only one affected by the presence of those spectral wraiths, after all.

"And _then_ she goes on to say how progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and 'pruning whatever practices that ought to be prohibited'." Hermione cut in smartly.

"So?" Ron said, trying to understand. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll give you a simple example." I began, ignoring Hermione's annoyed look directed at Ron. "You know how you hate spiders?" Ron shuddered, remembering our rather grand time with those dear acromantulas.

"Well, suppose you wanted to use a spell that repels them from your house. Suppose that spell doesn't exist, though. So, what do you do?"

"Create one." Fred— or was it George?— answered from a bit away. It seemed a few people were listening in.

"Exactly. That's what is called progress. Discovering something new to solve a current problem. You see where I'm going with this?" I asked Ron. The cogs in his mind were turning slowly.

"I think I do." Ron said unsure. "You're saying she wants to keep us stupid?" Hermione frowned at the oversimplified statement.

"She wants to _pretend there's no problem_." I corrected in a grave tone. Ron just shrugged in response. He didn't quite get it, I suppose. It was better than nothing, though.

Dumbledore's speech finally died down, as he dismissed everyone to bed. I said bye to Hermione and Ron, who were ushering the First Years to the Gryffindor dormitories. I chuckled at Ron's callous way of handling them. Midgets, indeed.

I walked alongside Dean, Neville, and Seamus; the last of which was looking everywhere but me. Was he avoiding me? Huh.

"How was your holiday, Harry?" Dean piped up, as we ascended the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor common room.

"Not bad at all." I replied, trying to reach an itchy part on my back with no luck. "My cousin got me a PC last summer; naturally, I was quite busy."

"Yeah? What kind of games you got on there?" Dean asked interestedly.

"Oh, you know. League, Diablo, a bunch of MMORPGs..." I listed off a few games. "And of course, let's not forget pirated games too."

Dean's eyes gleamed in familiarity. "Indeed. I heard Grand Theft Auto Five is going to be released in January this year, for the PC of course."

"When did you hear about that?" I asked curiously.

"Can't remember off the top of my head." Dean shrugged.

"Oh, so it—"

"Should definitely be available on pirate bay when we go home for the summer, yes." Dean and I exchanged excited grins, while Neville tried to make sense of what we were talking about. The grammar was correct, but he couldn't understand anything we just said. Seamus was having a hard time not being interested in what we were talking about, being a half-blood who lived in a non magical household with his witch mum and muggle dad.

"Muggle stuff, Neville." I explained to the round faced boy, who just nodded in understanding. "I'll show you some day. It's really awesome stuff."

"If you're sure..."

"You'll love it. I promise. You'll get to savagely kill a staggering amount of innocent people, fuck any sexy prostitute that catches your eye; and _then_ kill her and take her money! Also you can steal people's cars, bikes, etc. It's essentially a game glorifying overly violent behavior. One of the most amazing games on the planet, I assure you." Neville looked like he wanted nothing more than to avoid whatever I just proposed to him. He did not look assured at all. Pity.

We made it to the common room— Neville had surprisingly remembered the password, this time— and made our way to our dormitories. I walked up the familiar passage, chatting with Dean about Diablo III builds.

"Patch 2.1 went back to the roots for Monks, mate." I was explaining. "They're back to using Sweeping Wind and Fists of Fury. Their damage now comes from the gems they put in their accessories, and a certain set that spawns a clone which explodes for a ton of damage when you use Spirit."

"For real? I hadn't really played that class all that much, to be honest." Dean said curiously. "I'm more inclined to play Demon Hunter."

"Yeah? That Sentry build though." I said knowingly.

"Tell me about it." Dean chuckled, eyes gleaming. "All I do is press a single button over and over, and things just drop dead."

"With, like, what? Less than ten million toughness? I bet they kill you in one hit." I sniped good-naturedly. "My monk can easily pull twenty five million, unbuffed."

"Yeah, but he probably hits like a little girl, doesn't he?"

"How'd you kno— I mean, no he doesn't!"

"Right." Dean laughed, and so did I.

I took off my school robe, and sat on my bed, looking at the walls of this room fondly. I caught Seamus' eye, who looked away quickly.

"All right, I've kept quiet for most of the walk cause I didn't want to cause a scene." I said loudly, taking my shoes, and socks off, making my sore feet feel much better. "What's wrong, Seamus?"

"It's nothing, Harry." He waved me off, but I was undeterred.

"Come on, mate. Did something bad happen this summer?" I asked, concerned.

"You could say that." He answered vaguely. It seemed Dean had an idea, as he was glancing at me nervously.

"What happened?" I asked again, pulling my pajamas out of my trunk.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts." Seamus admitted, in a slightly shaky voice, as he finished buttoning his own pajamas. "Because of you."

"Because of me? What do you mean?" I asked, though I probably knew the answer.

"Uh... It's not just you. Dumbledore too."

"She believes what the Daily Prophet has been saying about me being an attention seeking liar?" I inquired. "Is that it?"

"Yeah." He confirmed.

"I see. What about you, Seamus? Do you think that, too?"

"Uh— I— That is—." That's my answer right there. I was starting to get angry; angry at the Prophet, angry at Seamus' mom, angry at the Ministry, angry at Voldemort. But, as soon as it came, I squashed it down mercilessly. Anger was almost always useless. Anger led to clumsiness and inefficiency. It led to bad decisions, and endless regrets.

"So you do." I said calmly, gazing at Seamus with an unreadable look.

"Harry, I—"

"Seamus." He quieted down. "We've all known each other here since we were eleven years old. We've eaten together, laughed together, went through detentions together, fought together, and shared stories together. We've seen your terrifying displays of pyrotechnics." At that, Seamus got a little red in the face, while Dean and Neville chuckled. "We've had to endure Dean's football mania." Here Dean looked a bit embarrassed. "We've had old Neville here keeping us all out of trouble, all the while showing us the various plants he knows about— which are awesome, by the way." Neville smiled, and ducked his head. "And finally, we had to suffer through Ron's _horrible snoring for years_." I loudly whispered the last part, referring to a night in which we tried to shut Ron up, a few years back. We all shared a laugh.

"Don't forget about yourself, Harry." Dean piped up. "Mr. Youngest-Seeker-In-A-Century, Snake Charmer, Dementor Magnet, Triwizard Champion. Honestly, the amount of situations you find yourself dragged into is insane."

"Agreed." I wryly said. "But this brings me to my next point. Seamus." I caught his attention again. He was starting to look guilty for doubting me.

"The Prophet said I was 'dark', last year." I made quotation marks as I spoke. "For being capable of speaking to snakes. In Second Year, people thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, even though _I was great friends with Hermione_." I stressed that last part out. "So, I realized something."

"What was that?" Seamus felt compelled to ask.

"People will find any reason they like to try and bring me down." I told the Irish boy. "Second Year, they said I was going dark. Fourth Year, I was the cheater who illegally entered himself into the tournament. This year, I'm an attention seeking, unhinged liar. You seeing where I'm going with this?"

"I—" Seamus looked to be at a loss for words.

"It's all right, mate. I'm not going to make you believe me. Just think about it, all right?" I gave a small smile, before frowning. "Though, I'm upset your mum thinks I'm a liar. I thought she was really nice when Ron and I met her at the World Cup."

The hidden insult to Seamus' mother was lost on the boy, since I worded it in a way that complimented her. This way was more insidious in that it makes Seamus look at his mother differently. I was working under the assumption that she had been badmouthing me all summer long, and then here I was, saying I liked her. I didn't like manipulating my dorm mate like this, but I didn't need any enemies from inside my dorm. I had enough of those outside of it, as it is.

"And don't worry so much about it." I said lightly, sitting on my bed and making a wide motion. "I'm sure that more than half the castle also think I'm lying about Voldemort's"— cue winces—"return."

"I believe you." Neville supplied, smiling.

"So do I." Dean said. "You've never been proven wrong, before."

"Who believes what?" Ron said, entering the room and taking off his robe. "What did I miss?"

"Dean and Neville believe that I'm telling the truth about what happened in June." I answered with a smile, glad I had support. Ron gave them a thankful nod.

"What about Seamus?" He pointed at the boy in question, who just stared at everyone.

"...You definitely don't look or sound like a crazed liar." It wasn't quite what I was hoping for, but Rome wasn't built in a day. Good enough.

"Don't know about the crazy part, mate!" Ron exclaimed, while grinning. "Remember when he tried to out fly a dragon using a broom?"

"It worked, didn't it?" I said indignantly.

"Doesn't make you any less crazy, now does it?" Dean quipped, much to the amusement of everyone, including me now.

"Damn straight." I smirked. We chatted the whole night away.

****ooooooooooooooo** **

The next day saw me annoyed right from the get go. As soon as I left the dorm room, I saw Ron and Hermione arguing with each other over Fred and George's notice in the common room notice board. I found it quite amusing.

"This is the limit!" She said as she removed the notice. "Ron, we're going to have to talk to them."

"Huh? Why?" Do I detect a hint of fear there, Ron? I smirked.

"Because we're prefects!" She almost yelled out. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing?"

"And what's wrong with it?" I interjected. She turned her ire on me. I stared back unflinchingly, until she broke the gaze.

"It's just wrong, Harry!"

"That's not a valid reason." I retorted. "What's so wrong about paying them? They even specify that it's at the volunteer's own risk!"

"That doesn't make it right! They're taking advantage of the students."

"You just don't get it, do you?" I gave her a pitying look— which she did not appreciate, nor understand— and left to the Great Hall. She didn't understand, at all. She lived in her own world of rules and regulations; that's why she didn't understand my blossoming capabilities with Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, thinking that it was impossible, even as I showed it to her.

When all was said and done, you were who you limited yourself to be.

People gave me a wide berth as I crossed the halls of the castle. I found it amusing that they were scared of me; even going as far as shouting 'BOO' to unsuspecting students. In the edge of my vision, I saw Daphne staring at me with thinly veiled amusement. Feeling somehow emboldened by this, I grinned and waved in her direction, before continuing on my way to the Great Hall, after seeing her wave back hesitantly. Progress! Maybe soon, I'll work the nerve to actually talk to her.

As I entered the aforementioned hall, I noticed most of the professors were at the table, with the exception of Hagrid, who was probably still trying to get the Giants to side with us in the war.

Though the chance of that happening was about as likely as Erza Scarlet materializing in front of me, wearing her nurse outfit and asking if I have a booboo that needed kissing somewhere. I grinned, and made my way to the Headmaster.

"Ah, Harry, my boy. How are you doing?" Professor Dumbledore asked genially. Professor Umbridge was eyeing the both of us like a hawk.

"Keeping well. You?" I answered politely.

"I am as fit as can be at my age, dear boy." He smiled benignly. "I'm sure you are not here to exchange simple pleasantries?"

"No, that's exactly what I'm here for." I denied with a smile, giving the much older man a mischievous look. "For without pleasantries, we would all be disgusting, fat _toads_ of people. Would you not agree, Professor?"

McGonagall looked like she wanted to reprimand me for the not-so-subtle insult I threw Umbridge's way, but merely shook her head in exasperation.

"Like James all over again." She muttered loud enough for me to hear. I beamed at her.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Don't forget to eat your breakfast, my boy. Breakfast is an important part of a growing young man's diet, after all."

"Too right you are, sir. Have a nice day!" I gave a respectful nod, before walking back to the Gryffindor table.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

__**"The time will come when you will have to rise,  
Above the best and prove yourself,  
Your spirit never dies."** **Imagine Dragons - Warriors**

**Chapter 9: Potions, Chemistry, and Plans  
**

_**Daphne's POV (Great Hall)  
** _

"Someone's in a good mood, today." A familiar voice got my attention.

"Hmm?" I lazily piled some eggs, and bacon on my plate.

"You're all chipper, Daph." Tracey said, taking a seat next to me.

"So?" I raised an eyebrow at the auburn haired girl.

"So?" Tracey parroted. "It's not like you at all. You're _never_ happy at the beginning of the year!"

I gave a sheepish look to that. I've never liked the start of any year at Hogwarts. It just meant homework, homework, and— care to guess?— more homework. Then came the fact that I had to deal with Draco and his band of idiots all year long. He was, in simple words, a narcissistic prick. Sometimes, I thought he should've been named after his mother instead of after dragons. Narcissus Malfoy was entirely more accurate.

"Oh." I answered lamely. "I guess there's something else on my mind."

"Yeah? Like a certain Mr. Potter?" Tracey waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I somehow didn't choke on the food I was swallowing, and gave Tracey what I thought was an impassive look. She was not fooled. Damn.

"You know." She started conversationally. "He was stealing looks at you for a good while yesterday, during the feast."

"Yes, yes— so you keep reminding me." I answered back, wryly. I was honestly surprised when she had first mentioned that to me. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor golden boy, interested in a Slytherin girl? I thought that was about as likely as hell freezing over. But he _had_ been staring at me. He had quickly looked away, and froze in place when I turned my gaze to him. It was funny, seeing him squirm, probably not wanting to look silly. Of course, he ended up failing dismally.

"So... Are you interested?" Tracey dug for information.

"Well," I hesitated, toying with the bacon with my fork. "I don't really know him. He usually avoids Slytherin students like the plague. Though, with Malfoy constantly antagonizing him, it's not really a surprise as to why he does it."

"Don't know him? He's the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero; _everyone_ knows who he is." Tracey retorted incredulously. I rolled my eyes. How could she be so dumb, sometimes?

"That's what everyone knows _about_ him. Not about _who_ he is." I corrected, pointing a finger at Tracey. "It doesn't say anything about his likes, dislikes, hobbies. It doesn't tell me anything about his personality." I watched him walk up to the teacher's table and converse with the Headmaster, who was smiling back at the boy. Professor Umbridge was watching them intently, but then her face contorted in anger, and her nostrils flared.

I saw McGonagall shake her head and mutter something which made Harry beam at her, before being shooed away by Professor Dumbledore. He glanced in my direction, catching my eye for a moment, before looking away really quickly, cheeks tinted red. Cute.

'He's definitely gone through a growth spurt.' I thought to myself, remembering the thin, much shorter boy from last year. 'And he's got some pretty eyes, too.'

The Daily Prophet had been saying he was lying about Voldemort's return, and that he was merely making it up in an attempt to gain attention, but my father said that the paper was going downhill. I had to agree on that one. Badmouthing a fifteen year old boy, when he couldn't even contest those claims, was despicable. I know that, if the paper was talking about me like that, my parents would've brought hell on their doorstep.

"So, what _do_ we know about him?" Tracey said mischievously, drawing my attention.

"We know he's quiet, and keeps to himself most of the time, though he seems to be coming out of his shell from what we've seen today and yesterday." I started slowly. "He's friends with Granger, so he doesn't care about blood status. This is further corroborated by his intense dislike for Draco— something we have in common." I motioned to the blonde ponce in question, who was currently boasting about his skills in Quidditch.

"He _is_ pretty quiet, and doesn't really talk to anyone aside from his Gryffindor friends; though that could be because people talk about him constantly. You'd have to be deaf not to hear the whispers." Tracey agreed, frowning thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

"Don't think so."

"Well, with just that, he seems like a pretty decent guy." Tracey winked. I just groaned at the not-so-subtle-hint.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE QUITTING THE TEAM?" A loud, female voice rang out. The whole of the Great Hall went silent.

"Woah, could you be any louder?" Tracey said irritably, turning to the source of the dreadful noise. I followed suit.

"That's one of the Gryffindor Chasers." I said, staring at the scene. Angelina Johnson, a tall black girl with braided hair, Chaser for Gryffindor House, was currently glaring at Harry's back with a mixture of confusion and anger. Harry stopped his eating with a sigh, and turned to face her. For a moment, he looked truly tired, but schooled his face into an impassive mask.

"Exactly that, Angelina." Harry answered her calmly. "I don't have the time for it, anymore."

"What do you mean?" She sputtered, growing angrier by the second. "Is it because of your OWLs? You know you can do those and be part of the team with no issues, right?"

The moment she said that, Harry just looked at her disbelievingly. He didn't say anything for a while, his expression darkening with suppressed anger.

"My OWLs? You know nothing." The green eyed boy snarled, before picking up his book bag and leaving. I caught a glimpse of his face; he looked a mix of incredulous and angry. A few moments of silence passed, before noise flooded the Great Hall once more, now with whispers pertaining to the Quidditch season.

"And now we know he quit the Quidditch team. See? You're practically best friends now!"

I palmed my face, wishing Tracey would just _shut up_ already...

****ooooooooooooooo** **

_**Harry's** **POV (Corridors of Hogwarts)  
** _

They just didn't get it. Why should they? They're just a bunch of pathetic children. All they worry about is Quidditch, grades, and friendships, while I'm in constant danger. I didn't have time for any of this shit! Sure, I wish I did, but I don't. No sense in crying about it, and there's _definitely_ no sense in cutting into my preparation time. The more time I had to prepare, the better chance I had of surviving. It was as simple as that.

If I needed to unwind, I would just bring out my broom and fly for a little bit, or relax by the lake.

" _Bow to death, Harry_..." Voldemort's taunt rang in my ears, reminding me of what was truly important.

Last June, I got my ass handed to me by Voldemort, who _wasn't even_ _trying_ hard at the time, and was probably still getting used to his new body. I escaped thanks to luck, and luck alone. There was no denying it. If that little convenient reverse spell effect hadn't occurred, I'd be dead right now. I needed to get stronger, and quickly.

Quidditch was fun, but it wasn't worth losing my life over. Performing a Wronski Feint, and knowing my Seeker drills wasn't going to save me from that well-aimed Entrails-Expelling Curse that one of the Death Eaters was more than likely going to use on me. Or, you know; the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. Or a Bone-Breaker. Or a jet of acid...

Though beating a bludger around would most likely build my arm strength... Hah. Could probably do the same by wanking; at least I feel better afterwards.

I checked my schedule for the day, and scowled. History of Magic, Potions, Divination, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Just well and dandy; the ghost, Snape, the nut job, and the slimy toad in the same day. At least I could get a nice, quiet nap in, before dealing with Snape.

I took my time on the way to History class, not really caring if I was going to be late or not. I could always bust out the 'I felt dizzy so I walked slowly to class so as not to pass out or vomit' excuse. I doubted Binns would call bullshit, if he even noticed me in the first place.

As it turned out, I got there five minutes early. Hermione and Ron waved me over— well, just Hermione. Ron had already begun his nap. I took up my spot next to the two, before promptly dozing off, much to the disapproval of Hermione. Not that I cared much.

The nap ended all too soon, as Hermione nudged us awake and threatened to not give us her notes; Ron, in a bout of genius, began flattering the resident Gryffindor bookworm. It seemed it was working, but, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

On our way to Potions class, she proceeded to rant about us not taking History seriously; to which I said: "Well, I just prefer Muggle History to Wizard History. Two successive bloody world wars, Hermione. It satisfies my need to learn of other people's pain and suffering. And the mutations caused by the aftermath of the nuclear strikes on Hiroshima and Nagasaki... Uranium is great, wouldn't you agree, Hermione?"

Needless to say, Hermione's mortified expression cheered me up a little bit. I entered the Potions classroom with a spring in my step, immediately taking my table at the back. I looked around the class. It seemed as if Professor Snape wasn't here, yet. After a summer filled watching random documentaries, and reading up on whatever I stumbled upon, I was sort of looking forward to this class; out of all the subjects, Potions seemed to be the most scientific in nature.

An onslaught of students entered the class at the same time, hurriedly taking their seats before Snape tore their throats open for daring to be late. I saw a glimpse of Daphne, sitting somewhere in the middle, next to her auburn haired friend, Tracey. Even looking at the girl from behind was just a treat.

I heard Snape's dungeon door creak open. The hook-nosed, greasy haired man swept in the room, his billowing robes giving the room an aura of doom and gloom. He certainly had a flair for the dramatics, huh?

"Settle down." Severus said coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no need, however, since everyone was already dead silent. He then went on making a speech about how it was our OWL year, and that he expected each and every one of us to at least get an 'Acceptable' on our exams. He tried to bait me a few times, but I've grown past such attempts, having dealt with the scum of the internet on a daily basis. I'm the master baiter, baby (Get it!? Masterbaiter? No?). Anyway, I gave him points for making the effort; his subtle insults were ruffling Ron's jimmies, that's for sure.

"And to make sure you are taking this a little more seriously," Snape continued in a silky tone. "I will have you brew the Draught of Peace: a potion that often comes up in the examinations. It is used to calm anxiety, and soothe— Weasley!" He barked out at the end, there. Everyone looked in our direction.

Ron was busy picking his nose, it seemed. I resisted the urge to swear profusely at the redhead. Couldn't he see that I was trying to avoid Snape's ire? Damn it.

"Five points from Gryffindor for that horrific display, Weasley." Snape sneered, before motioning for him to come. "You will change your seat today, Mr. Weasley, as it seems you're _incapable_ _of paying attention_." Ron glared at the Potions Master, who glared right back. It didn't take long for the boy to begin grabbing his stuff in resignation.

"Let's see... Ah." Snape turned to Daphne. "Weasley, you will take Ms. Greengrass' place for today. Ms. Greengrass, if you will—"

"Of course, Professor." The girl said softly, before packing up her stuff and heading to me. I fought off a nervous grin, as the girl took her place between Hermione and I, giving me a small nod, which I returned with a smile. Ron was still loudly setting up shop, much to the amusement of the Slytherins surrounding him.

"Hi." I took a moment to greet the girl. Hermione looked at me oddly.

"Hello to yourself, Potter." Her whisper was low, and soft. I didn't get to say anything further, though, because Snape took control of the class again.

"As I was saying." Snape glared at Ron one more time, for good measure. "This potion can soothe agitation. The reason I've chosen this particular potion is due to its difficulty; you will need to follow the instructions on the board—" He waved his wand and a set of steps detailing the making of the potion appeared on the blackboard. "—and you will find the needed ingredients in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half. Begin."

I went to get the needed ingredients, and walked back to my post with purpose. I wanted to ace this class. Despite Snape's warnings, I found that the potion was incredibly easy to make. The instructions were clear, and the potion was progressing the way it should, with a light silver vapor rising from it— just like Snape said.

The overgrown bat swept around the class, criticizing some student's work. He took great pleasure in vanishing Ron's potion, and giving him zero. He sneered at Neville, who somehow made an acceptable draught, before finally coming to inspect my work. He looked at it, then at me, then back at it again.

"Potter." The man said softly.

"Yes, Professor?"

"What is this?"

"Uh... What do you mean? This is the Draught of Peace." I looked at him for a moment. "Did I make a mistake, somewhere? I know I followed the directions to the letter."

"...No, Mr. Potter. The potion is..." Here, Snape looked like he swallowed something sour. "Very well made."

Was that a compliment just now?

"I am... curious, Mr. Potter." Severus quickly checked Hermione and Daphne's cauldrons, noting that— while good— their potions were not as good as mine. "How did you manage to accomplish this without Granger's help? Your previous work has never had this level of quality."

Hermione glowered at him. How cute!

"I don't really know how to answer that, sir." I began, not wanting to talk about my summer in front of everyone. "I just understood exactly what I needed to do, that's all."

"Fair enough, Potter. Perhaps you are not as moronic as I first believed." Ah, backhanded compliments. "From this point on, I shall expect this level of brewing from you. Is that understood, Potter?"

"Sure." I said easily. If this was supposed to be one of the more difficult potions for the OWLs, then I had this class in the bag.

With that, the Potions Master left to criticize other students, giving me the opportunity to look around. Draco was looking at me with an expression of utter displeasure; it was similar to my expression when my favorite manga didn't update at the regular time. Ron was too busy with his own potion; the same went for Neville and Seamus, the former having to endure Snape's onslaught.

Hermione just gave me a self-satisfied smile, probably thinking all that harping about taking studies seriously is beginning to pay off. Daphne was curiously looking at me.

"What?" I whispered, and she looked away in embarrassment.

"Nothing, Potter." She said quickly. "I've just never seen Professor Snape give you a compliment before."

"That makes two of us, Daphne." I grinned at the girl, before frowning. "I can call you Daphne, right?"

"That's fine, but do I have to stop calling you Potter?"

"Nah, you're good."

Snape's throat cleared behind me. I turned to see him glowering at me. It was the Glower of Frustration 1.0! He must be really grasping at straws here.

"Anything to share, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing important; I simply answered Mrs. Greengrass' question about the potion."

"I see." His lips curled, before he turned to the class in general. "For those of you who have completed their work _correctly_ —" he sneered at Neville and Ron. "Fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, and bring it to my desk for grading." He took a breath. "As for homework; twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its use in potion making."

I took my time filling up the flagon with a sample and turning it in to the Professor. Then I went back to my post to clear my things. The bell rang, and students began to hurriedly leave the class for a well deserved lunch. I hung back, wanting to have a word with the Professor.

"You coming, Harry?" I heard Ron say from behind me, and turned to the boy.

"I'll see you there, all right? There's something I need to do."

"All right, mate." Ron said uncertainly, before shaking his head and leaving for lunch, falling in behind Hermione. Was he looking at her butt? That sly sonovabitch...

As the last of the students left the classroom, Snape turned to me, an unpleasant look upon his face.

"Something you need, Potter?" The greasy haired wonder drawled lazily.

"A couple of questions."

"Is that so... Well then, let's hear them."

"Right, uh..." I started, not really knowing how to go about this. "Do you know chemistry, by any chance?"

Snape looked stricken for a split second, before switching his face to an impassive look. What the hell was that? Did I just imagine it?

"Many years ago, I studied the subject, at the request of a..." He hesitated. "A friend of mine."

"A friend? Who?" I asked curiously. He looked at me for a very long moment.

"As it happens, it was your mother, Potter." He had an unreadable look on his face.

Wait, wait, wait.

"You- My mom—" I didn't even know how to form words right now.

"Don't look so surprised, Potter." He gave me an annoyed/amused look. "I knew Lily even before we attended Hogwarts. And that whiny sister of hers as well. Anyway, what did you want to know about chemistry?"

It seemed like my mother was a subject he didn't want to talk about. I didn't press the issue, partly because I hadn't expected it, and partly because I'm not exactly close friends with Snape. I remember it took Remus months to open up, back in my Third Year. Snape was on a whole other level of closed up, if it took him over four years to tell me he knew my mother _since his childhood_.

"Right, right." I shook my head of these thoughts. "Well, just what is the difference between Potions and Chemistry? Both seem to serve the same purpose, though Muggles have never gotten to the level where they could re-grow bones..."

"That is an interesting question." He went into lecture mode. "The answer that a regular Wizard would give to it is simple; Muggles can't brew potions."

And here I thought they could. Oh. Then came my next question.

"Why?" The man gave me a reluctantly pleased look, as if I passed some test of his.

"The answer to that," Snape began dramatically. "Is a bit more complex. Though I have told every single class that there was to be no wand-waving in Potions, I did not specifically state that you have not been using magic this whole time."

"Using magic? What, does the potion absorb our magic?" I asked, wondering about his statement.

"In a way, but not quite." Snape answered wryly. "It is not the potion itself that draws out the student's magic, but it is the student who infuses the potion with their magic, at the critical moments of the brewing process."

"That's why Muggles can't do it?" I said in realization.

"And why Squibs can." Snape continued. "Because it does not require the use of a wand, and does not need great amounts of magic, with a few exceptions, of course."

"Why don't you teach that to students?" I asked curiously. "Seems like a pretty interesting thing to know."

"That is something I teach to students who have passed their OWL examinations, Potter." He said.

"How come?"

"I shall explain through an example." He looked at me. "Mr. Potter, try not to focus on your own breathing."

I was suddenly acutely aware of the rising and falling of my chest. I tried to stop focusing on it, only to find myself deprived of air. I had to consciously will myself to breathe again. A few more tries to stop focusing met with equal failure.

"You understand, now, why I do not teach this to students below the NEWT level." He said, looking amused at my attempts at breathing normally. "If they knew about it, they would infuse the potion with magic at the wrong times, or perhaps not at all, leading to undeserved zeroes."

"So, why tell me this?" Did he want me to fail?

"It is nothing as insidious as what you are currently thinking, Potter." He looked annoyed. "Do not think that because of your association with _them_ , I would jeopardize a student's future. No matter whose son he is." He muttered the last part to himself, though I heard it clearly.

"So—"

"You are ready for the next level, Mr. Potter." Snape simply stated. "Do not expect praise for your work during class, however. Appearances must be maintained, for obvious reasons." He said, hinting at his spy status.

"Speaking of..." I trailed off, giving him a significant look. "How deep in are you?"

" _That_ is none of your concern, Potter." He said in slight exasperation. "Do you not have a lunch period, right now?"

"Yeah, I do." I confirmed, before making a split second decision. "But I'll skip my Divination class for that."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering if I had gone insane, telling a professor I was going to skip class.

"Come off it." I almost growled. "We both know that class is worth nothing. Reading tea leaves, and analyzing dreams is not going to help me fight the snake bastard. I somehow doubt he'll make me sit in front of him and have me kill him by reading his palm."

It was the same reasoning I used for quitting the Quidditch team. So I'll lose an OWL; who cares? I sure didn't.

"Indeed, Potter." Snape agreed, still giving me a look of disapproval. "I shall simply let your Head of House take responsibility for this situation."

"That's fine." I gave a nasty smile. "She'll have to get used to constant disappointments from me. I'll worry about it when my life is not in danger."

"Anyway," I continued. "I know you told Professor Dumbledore about Voldemort's plans, and the safety of the Prophecy."

Here, the Potions Master goggled at me.

"So, he told you..."

"Yeah. I don't know what it says, just that it's about me and the Dark Lord." I explained. "I don't really care what it says, either. I plan to obliterate the piece of trash, regardless of the Prophecy's contents."

"So what questions do you have then, Potter?" Snape asked me, skeptically. "It seems you know everything, already."

"I know everything you told the Headmaster." I corrected. "The answers to the _questions the Headmaster asked_."

"And?"

"I have my own questions." I said. He didn't answer, but silently prompted me to continue.

"I want to know how accessible the old bastard is." I said carefully. "Maybe I can have him killed from the inside."

I had the gold for it, I could just hire someone to sneak in, kill the bastard, and get out.

"Impossible." Snape answered. "The wards of his safe houses are ancient, and strong. None can enter without the owner's permission. Furthermore, the Dark Lord is always alert, fully aware of his surroundings in case of an attack."

So Voldemort does not even trust his own followers?

"Safe houses, huh?" I repeated, a calculating look in my eyes. "I'm assuming Death Eater houses. Any children in these houses?"

"Not until the holidays. Where are you going with this, Mr. Potter?" The Potions Master asked wearily.

"Just thinking about the practical applications of Chemistry, Professor." I said cheekily, before leaving the class for lunch, and possibly some training if time allowed.

"Like his father." Snape said to himself, as he watched me exit the classroom. "But like his mother, too..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

_**"Hashirama's country was a shameful contradiction... Man seeks peace, yet at the same time yearning for war. Those are the two realms belonging solely to man."** _ **\- Uchiha Madara (Naruto, Chapter 661)**

**Chapter 10: Threats  
**

" **Edge!** " I shoved my hand through yet another unfortunate desk, shrapnel flying everywhere as my lightning coated hand jutted out the other side, unscathed. I shook my head. It needed to be much cleaner than this. My lightning needed to be sharper. I moved to another desk, and readied another attack.

" **Edge** **!** " It was slightly cleaner this time, but still unsatisfactory.

That's what I've been doing for the past 30 minutes; just using **Edge** , over and over. After my talk with Professor Snape, I went to have a light lunch, avoiding curious questions from Ron and Hermione— who would probably try to kill me for skipping class, even it was Divination— before finding myself a nice, abandoned class room to practice in.

It looked like it hadn't been used in ages, judging from the thick layer of dust that I had to clean up. Let it be known that I could make a decent housewife— or is it househusband?

" **Edge!** Pierce properly, damn it!" I swore as another desk was subjected to my impaling strike.

This just wasn't working. I wasn't really cutting through the desk. My hand was only bursting through the flimsy thing because of the brute force given to me from the amount of energy channeled into said hand. I unceremoniously sat down on one of the chairs, and began to think.

Didn't I shape my hand in the form of a knife, and force my energy to shape itself accordingly as well? When I had stuck my hand into a wall yesterday morning, it was like I attempted to stab a sword into it. The experience was very jarring and painful.

Maybe I was doing this all wrong. I already had the brute force and the speed behind the strike. I just needed to figure out how to drill through the enemies.

Wait...

"Of course!" I blurted out, eyes widening in happy realization. "I need to _drill_ through them!"

I remembered Vernon using his power drill quite often, back in the day. The concept behind it was simple. Using his brute force, and a high speed spinning drill-bit, Vernon could pierce through the wall. Fuck, how did I not think of this before?

Like I said, I already had the brute force aspect down, so all I really needed to accomplish was the spinning aspect. I summoned my lightning to my hand, noting how easy it has become to do so, before gently placing it on a nearby desk. It made a small indent, but went no further. Where to go from here?

Spinning my hand was out of the question, since I could only twist it a hundred and eighty degrees back and forth. Trying it out made me wince in pain, my bicep not used to such erratic movement.

No, I needed to go about it another way. Perhaps if the lightning itself spun? I'd never done that before— spinning my lightning, that is. So far, I've mostly worked on calling it forth, and giving it a rough shape.

I lifted my hand so that it was right in front of my face, before concentrating. My electricity flared to life, as I channeled almost double the amount of power as before. I concentrated on the image of a drill bit, trying to will my lightning to assume that shape.

Surprisingly enough, the lightning obeyed, taking the form of long cone with many ridges adorning the side. Next, I made it spin. This was less easy, but I managed to get it done, though I felt the speed was lacking. I would have to work on that. For now, it would have to do. I'd already been shoving my hand through these desks without the spin motion, so there was no danger here.

I stood up, and went to an intact desk. The drill shaped lightning was spinning with a strange hum— alongside the regular crackling noise. It made for a strange tune.

"Please work... **Edge!** " I thrust my hand at the top of the desk, and it came out of the other side— with very little shrapnel! It was an almost clean, circular hole; light years better than my previous attempts. The lightning receded into my hand as I began cheering in success.

"Yes!" I celebrated, and removed my hand from the desk, wiping the sweat off my brow. I checked my watch— something Sirius had given me in the summer— and realized I had fifteen minutes until my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I swore, before grabbing my book bag, and leaving.

"Let's recap." I murmured to myself, a habit I developed some time during this last summer. I finally figured out the trick to using **Edge** ; I still needed to work on the spinning speed, though that would probably come with time and experience, to be honest.

The **Breakdown Fist** could definitely crack concrete right now, though I still had a way to go with that one; the problem was concentrating a fair amount of power into the exit point— my fist, in this instance. Again, a matter of experience.

I've also been capable of increasing my speed by infusing my muscles with my lightning. I'd say I was.. four times faster? Perhaps three. I didn't have any high tech equipment on hand to tell me the exact figures. I was forced to mentally count how many seconds it took me to cross from one side of the room to the other. It wasn't deadly accurate, but one had to work with what they had.

Anyway, this also had the added effect of increasing my reaction speeds. I could probably play professionally as a Seeker, or even a Keeper, if I wanted to. It's easy to block a Quaffle if time is slowed down considerably, wouldn't you agree?

So, what was left? I pondered this as I descended the stairs on the way to the Third Floor, where the Defense class was going to take place. I suppose I could work on my dodging skills... I could bewitch a few bludgers to make them target me. Add to that an obstacle course; that should help greatly improve my awareness in a battlefield.

I still had to work on my **Roar** , as well. I figured I'd save that particular spell up for last, because it was likely going to be the most energy intensive attack in my arsenal. It consisted of gathering all of my lightning into a single point— my mouth, before releasing it in one mighty roar, completely obliterating anything in its path. As much I wanted to try it right now, I did not believe I was ready for it. Not yet.

I ambled into the Defense classroom, noting that almost everyone was here, including Professor Umbridge, who was still wearing her disgusting fluffy pink cardigan, and a black velvet bow on top of her head. I took a seat next to Ron and Hermione, giving a small sigh in relief for not being late to this particular class. Who knew what kind of punishment Umbridge would try to force on me? Being the Ministry's stooge, she was probably tasked with bringing me and Dumbledore down.

"You stink." Ron said tactlessly after sniffing the air a few times.

"Thanks, mate!" I answered cheerfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"I can't believe you skived off Divination, on the first day, too!" Ron grinned at me, before freezing, realizing his mistake. Behind him, Hermione looked shocked, before switching to an angry look. Was she gonna go all prefect on me, take points and assign detentions?

I shook my head at her, stopping whatever outburst was bound to happen.

"Now is not the time." I warned the girl in a dangerous tone of voice, giving her a significant look. She, possessing at least a modicum of common sense, nodded in resignation. More students began shuffling into the class, before the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the class.

"Well, good afternoon!" Professor Umbridge began, when students were all settled in.

She got a few halfhearted "Afternoon"s in reply.

"Tut, tut." Who does that? "That won't do. I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time: good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." I simply mouthed the words, glancing at my fellow students. Most of them looked exasperated, and with good reason. That was probably one of the worst ways to start a class I've ever seen; and I'd had classes with Quirrell and Lockhart!

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Umbridge said in that condescending, sugary sweet voice of hers. "Wands away and quills out, please."

She went to the blackboard, with her ridiculously small wand— there was a joke in there, somewhere— and tapped the board with it.

On it, the words " _Defense Against the Dark Arts, A Return to Basic Principles_." appeared. Basic principles, huh?

She then went on to speak about the fragmented education that we had, due to the fact of having four different wizards teach the class in the past four years. She then went on to say that we were far below the standard of the OWLs— I suppressed a laugh, at that.

"—We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved—" Ah, _t_ _here_ was the key word: Ministry-approved. Big Brother is watching you, children. You have to obey the Ministry's every word, or you could find yourself in dire straits, you slaves

I kept my face impassive, as Umbridge continued to drone on about how this was all carefully made by experts at the Ministry. More of that pointless legal talk she liked to spew at everything that had a pulse.

A few minutes later, we had our books out, reading the first chapter of _Defensive Magical Theory_. I'd already tried to read this book, before deciding it was utter garbage, filled with submission/negotiation tactics and the like; in other words, letting the enemy win without putting up a fight. There was no way in hell that I would even consider doing such a thing.

It was a horribly boring experience. I wished I could take a nap, like I did during old Binns' class. Instead, I simply focused on the first sentence, reading it over and over, pretending I was understanding it.

I began to stroke my non-existent beard, and to 'hmm' in understanding and realization, pretending to be oblivious to the building snickers around me. I turned the page, and began 'hmm'-ing again.

"Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge's voice broke my 'concentration'.

"Hmm?" I slowly looked up from my book, seeing Umbridge with a look of annoyance on her face. I tried not to smirk in her face; that would give me away.

"Is something wrong, Professor Umbridge? You look a little flushed. Do you have a fever? I can take you to Madam Pomfrey, if you wish. She has some very effective cures against fevers." I said in false concern, giving her what I thought was an alarmed look. Ron was fighting back a laugh.

Hermione, who's had her hand up for the past five minutes, merely glowered at me.

"No, Mr. Potter. There will be no need for that." The woman automatically denied. "I am quite all right. I was going to ask you to lower your voice. This is supposed to be a silent reading period."

"Lower my voice? Whatever do you mean?" Play dumb, it always works! Her left eye twitched slightly. SUCCESS!

"You were humming the whole time you were reading." She informed me tersely.

"I— I was?" I pretended to give her a childish look of amazement at her revelation, kind of like when kids got to meet Santa.

"Are you sure, Professor?" I asked the woman, with a skeptic look on my face.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I am _quite_ sure." She was beginning to look exasperated. Better stop screwing around for a while.

"My apologies, then, Professor Umbridge. I will endeavor to be as silent as the night." I promised, before stroking my chin as I continued to 'read', nodding every other line, to the amusement of the class.

Umbridge said nothing, this time. She couldn't give me detention for an odd quirk that didn't really disrupt the class.

I gave a quick glance to my left, seeing that Hermione's hand was still up, her book not even open— wait, what? Hermione not reading a book? Preposterous!

She really wanted her question answered, didn't she? Sheesh. More time passed by, with everyone beginning to openly look between Hermione and Umbridge, just to see who would crack first, in this silent battle of wills.

As it were, Umbridge lost. Against Hermione, was there any doubt?

"Did you want to ask me something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge pretended that she wasn't ignoring the girl up to this point.

"Not exactly, no." Hermione answered.

"Well, we're reading at the moment." Umbridge said sweetly, showing how inflexible her personality was. "If you have other questions, we can deal with them at the end of the class."

"I've got a question about your course aims." Hermione pressed on. Let it be known that she was one stubborn lady. With enough prodding, she could probably make Dumbledore— a man known for his unwavering patience— rip his hair out in frustration.

"And your name is...?" Umbridge prompted. I narrowed my eyes, having learned from a few Order members that people in the Wizarding world judged you by your last name. If it didn't sound like any 'pureblood' name they knew, that person would avoid you at all costs, in fear of dirtying his/her blood by simply being in your presence.

"Hermione Granger." Hermione answered. I wondered if she thought the same thing I did when that question was asked. For all her intelligence and book smarts, Hermione was sometimes very naive.

I noticed Umbridge's face darken in response; pureblood supremacist, detected!

"Well, Miss Granger, I believe that the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through them carefully." She said sweetly, motioning to the blackboard.

"Well, I don't." Hermione disagreeing with a teacher? I didn't think I could handle more surprises. "There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells."

I glanced at the blackboard, reading the course aims for the first time. As usual, the bushy haired girl was right. The words 'defensive magic' appeared three times in the course aims, but the words I focused on were at the start of each line: 'Understanding the principles; Learning to recognize; Placing the use of defensive magic in context'. Essentially, it was all theory and no practice.

" _Using_ defensive spells?" Umbridge laughed. "I can't imagine a situation arising in this classroom that would require you to use defensive magic. Surely, you aren't expecting to be attacked during your class?"

A few outcries erupted at that statement, with Ron being the most vocal.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?" Umbridge was addressing Ron.

"Weasley." And the ginger raised his hand. She answered by ignoring him.

She went on to denounce Hermione's view on what Defense Against the Dark Arts was supposed to be like, seeing as she was not a 'Ministry-trained educational expert'. An expert at what? Hiding from the truth? The Ministry was a bunch of cowards. Garbage.

For a moment, I wanted to stun her, before kicking her out of the castle.

However, I reined myself in. There was no real gain in doing that. Sure, I would feel better, but that would only last for a short time, before the Ministry brought the Aurors down on me. I wasn't ready for them. Not yet.

Let her talk, and dig her own grave. When the time came, I would be happy to bury her myself.

Umbridge kept giving the students non-answers, until Parvati asked her own, worried about the practical part of the OWL examinations.

The professor kept assuring her that studying the theory will prepare everyone for the practical bit of the test. I had enough.

"It won't be enough." I said firmly. It was probably the first thing I'd said after screwing around during the reading period. "And besides, what good is the theory going to be in the real world?"

"This is school, Mr. Potter." She disagreed calmly. " _Not_ the real world."

"Are you saying we're supposed to do nothing to prepare for what's out there?"

"There is nothing out there, Mr. Potter." She said calmly, though I could see a hint of anticipation in her eyes. I saw it for what it was: she was trying to bait me into talk about Voldemort, so she could punish me.

Too bad I'm the mothafuckin masterbaiter! Silly toad, you're playing The Game, and you've already lost.

"Of course there is." I disagreed, faking an indignant angry look.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" She asked sweetly, lacing her question with an insult directed at my age. How unoriginal.

"Who?" I gave her an incredulous look. "Come now, Professor Umbridge. Dark wizards _do_ exist. If they didn't, we would not need the Aurors to defend us."

"If there were no dangers in our society, Knockturn Alley would be a very safe place to pass through." I said with a smile. "Sadly, as it turns out, it is _not_ safe." A few students laughed at that.

I cleared my throat. "As I'm sure you're well aware, two years ago, the infamous mass murderer Sirius Black escaped the Azkaban Prison." I ignored Hermione's gasp. Umbridge looked annoyed I was dangling the Ministry failure in front of her.

It sucked to use Sirius' example like this, but it was one of the few options I had. This way, I could stress the importance of learning defensive spells without getting a detention.

"He managed to infiltrate Hogwarts, and remain within its grounds for months on end." I said heavily. "Furthermore, the presence of the dementors increased the level of danger even more, since they did not care about who they attack. I think I recall many students in this very room visiting Madame Pomfrey after encounters with them."

At the mention of dementors, Umbridge's face switched to a panicked look, before going back to annoyed. Wonder what that's about?

"That's only one situation, Mr. Potter." Umbridge retorted, trying to take control again. "We have rectified the situation with the dementors, and Sirius Black will be caught by our elite Aurors sooner or later."

"With all due respect." I answered coolly, cutting off whatever tirade she was about to go on. "You have _not_ rectified the situation, or do you not remember the trial in August, in which I was forced to defend myself for using the Patronus Charm on two dementors in Little Whinging— a region far from Azkaban?"

She looked at me in mute anger. Suck on that, bitch!

"Anyway, as to not needing to use spells. Suppose you wanted to travel the world; one of your destinations is the jungles of South America." I took a breath. "As you may have heard, many of the Wizard villages there are lawless, filled with murderers and thieves."

"And why, Mr. Potter, would any of you travel there?" Umbridge asked.

"To see the sights, of course." I answered easily. "Nature has a way of creating beautiful sceneries that _must_ be seen in person."

"Of course." I continued in a loud voice, still not letting Umbridge speak.

"There is always another threat. A threat that would annihilate us in an instant if it wished to do so." I said gravely.

"What threat, Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge said as sweet as honey, incorrectly thinking I was about to announce Voldemort's return. She almost looked giddy.

"What threat?" I repeated with wide eyes. "Surely you know, Professor Umbridge? I believe the Minister interacts with them quite often, does he not?"

"Interacts with _who?_ " Umbridge asked in confusion.

"Why, the Muggles, of course!" I answered with a smile. Hermione frowned, as did the other Muggleborns. Ron was looking at me skeptically.

There was a long silence, that lasted quite a while. Then Umbridge scoffed.

" _Muggles_?" She spat out disdainfully, all pretenses of sweetness dropped for a moment. "What can _they_ do against us?"

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid. I mean no offense to Muggles, of course." I told the woman. The Muggleborns were mollified by this.

"First, it bears to mention that they outnumber us _by far_." I started. "The current Muggle population of the world is estimated to be around seven billion— give or take a hundred million. The population of Wizarding Britain is estimated to be around ten thousand." I revealed, making people's eyes widen.

"If they ever decided to declare war on us, we would not stand a chance. The wizards of the past were wise in creating links to the Muggle government: their smart decisions have protected our community for centuries."

I swallowed, before continuing.

"Their weapons, can match— and in some cases easily outshine ours— in pure destructive power." I said. "Take a gun for example. It was a small device that launches metal projectiles at the enemy at great speeds."

"Wouldn't the Shield Charm stop those?" Some nameless 'pureblood' asked in a haughty tone.

"If you're fast enough, I suppose." I gave them the impression that I was relenting, luring them into my trap. "On the other hand, do you know how fast these projectiles are?"

No one answered. Not even Hermione— she probably knew it was fast, but not the exact number. Hermione never answered a question in class if she didn't know exactly what the answer was.

"No one?" Some shrugged at my question. "Well, I'll put it in a way you can understand." I said, before clapping once. The class looked at me in confusion, while Hermione and some others were realizing the implications.

"Y-You're saying it's as fast as sound?" A student dared to ask, causing others to gasp at the revelation.

"Oh, goodness no." Some of them, including Umbridge sighed in relief. Good. Time to deliver the blow.

"It's actually three times faster than that."

Utter silence met my words.

"Fret not. It gets much worse." I said with a smile. "These weapons are but walking sticks, when compared to the sheer destructive power of their explosive devices."

"I'm sure you are all aware of the Second World War?" I asked, and got wry looks in answer. "Good, have you heard about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"

I got some nods.

"For those of you who don't know, the United States retaliated against Japan in 1945, by launching a single bomb for each city. The bombs had a yield of fifteen thousand tonnes of dynamite. It was enough to destroy the entire city—" Well, it had only destroyed around 65% or something, but they didn't know that.

"Since then, the Muggles have managed to increase the destructive power of these bombs, by over a thousand fold. I have no doubt that they could destroy entire countries, if they were inclined to do so." I informed the class, staring at each and every student, before turning to Umbridge, a polite smile on my face.

"My apologies for the impromptu speech, Professor Umbridge." I said sweetly. "May I proceed in the reading of Chapter One?"

"...You may."

I began to scratch my chin and nod at the book, once more, ignoring the stares I was getting from my classmates.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
Lightning Dragon's Roar  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
By Zero Rewind**   
**© 2014**   
**ooooooooooooooo**

__**"I breathe for you now,  
Yet you seek to the dark infested,  
Home of my kind,  
Look inside,  
Past the guarded walls of hope..." ** **\- Maka & Waeck ft. Farisha - Breathe (Vexare Remix)**

**Chapter 11: Hermione's not a Seeker, She's a Snitch. Also, PLOT TWIST!  
**

It's been a few days since my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class; and I use the term 'class' loosely in this situation.

If I had any say in it, I would not attend. I had already begun skipping both History and Divination, seeing as I slept in one, and had to endure predictions of my death in the other. Listening to Trelawney's speeches about the Inner Eye were dreadful.

Half of her lines involve her bragging about her Seer abilities. For example, the phrases "just like I Saw you would" or "you're doing as I predicted" were used quite liberally. She knew her subject, of course. I had to give her that much...

She might be a crackpot, but at least she tries to teach something. Unlike dear old Umbridge, who would simply tell us to read the book.

I, of course, kept up with my amusing shenanigans in that particular class. To avoid punishment, I was always excessively polite and eager to please when spoken to. During the reading period, I would look at the book and nod thoughtfully, as if I were learning the very secrets of the universe itself.

I supposed it was good practice at keeping my calm. There were times, in which I had to stop myself from laughing out loud, lest I get in trouble. All in all, a decent way to work on staying composed.

Potions class continued as usual. Snape kept up with appearances, looking like he was horribly displeased whenever I succeeded— all the time, basically. It was definitely a little trickier for me now, due to the fact that I was now aware of my magical energies seeping into the potions I was concocting. Professor Snape was surprisingly helpful in that regard, having directed me to a certain book in the Library.

It was a bitch to find, but I managed to get my hands on it. Apparently most NEWT level students ended up buying their own book, considering that everyone and their mother would fight for the few copies in the Library.

 _Magical Infusion in Potion Making_ was a pretty interesting read. I figured, since Snape thought it was important enough to stealthily give me a slip of parchment containing the book title, that I should give it a try. It went into detail of how exactly infusion took place during the course of the brewing of a potion.

Apparently, low level potions didn't really require a lot of magical energy, if at all. It made sense, in a way. The amount of energy needed should increase with the difficulty of the potion, shouldn't it?

The book also went on to explain how you can figure out the potion's critical moments and act accordingly, giving a fair number of examples in which you should either infuse the potion with magic, or not at all; constant magic infusion, while not necessarily bad, would not yield a perfect potion.

It was like cooking, in that respect. Too much of a single ingredient would ruin a dish, after all. Dumping more salt than was needed would make your spaghetti sauce taste terrible! Terrible, I say! I know from experience.

Care of Magical Creatures was boring as shit, without Hagrid introducing dangerous/illegal creatures. We studied bowtruckles; it was some kind of tree-guardian that ate wood lice or some such. I lost twenty points from Gryffindor for joking about how they were protecting their wood— Get it!? Hermione was greatly displeased, seeing as the ten points she managed to scrounge up were taken away in an instant.

She glared at me for the rest of the period— not that I cared.

Transfiguration had McGonagall starting us with the Vanishing Spell, something I'd been wanting to learn for a while now. The Professor had us vanishing snails to start out with. Surprisingly, it was a very difficult spell , but I was one of the few that actually managed to get the snail to vanish. Hermione had done it in her third try, and then spent the rest of the class watching the others fail at completing their assignment. I shook my head at her behavior.

Currently, I was sitting in the Charms class, bored out of my mind. Flitwick wanted everyone to review the Summoning Charm, a spell I had a good grasp on due to last year's close encounter with a dragon. Felt like a lifetime ago, really. I wondered how I would fare against a dragon with my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. Was my magic truly capable of slaying dragons? I supposed it didn't really matter, in the end. I've already shown I could crack concrete, and break through wood like it's not even there.

With a lot of dedication and practice, why _shouldn't_ I be eventually capable of such feats?

The diminutive Charms teacher ended up giving us so much homework it made Ron gape in disbelief. He grumbled about how he was never going to get some free time, what with his Prefect duties and other classes. I merely smirked in response, and said that I didn't get it. It made Hermione glare furiously at me. When the class ended, she angrily stomped out, with Ron following her, giving me an apologetic grin.

I didn't understand why she was being such a bitch about it. It's not like I was lounging around in the common room when I skived off those classes! I trained, trained, and then— guess what?— I trained some more. With every session, I could see the progress being made. Fine tuning my **Edge** was the ultimate proof of my hard work so far.

I shook my head warily, before heading to the Great Hall for dinner. I sat alone this time, not wanting to deal with Hermione's attitude, and helped myself to some chicken breast.

"Well, well," I heard a mischievous voice say from behind me. I turned to see—

"Look at what we've got here, brother mine." Fred said as he sat to my left.

"The infamous skiver himself, is it?" George sat to my right. He shook my hand with excessive eagerness. "Pleasure to meet you, good sir."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" I stifled a grin, pretending to be annoyed by their presence.

"Just checking up on our dear friend." Fred waved the question off.

"We heard from Alicia—"

"Who heard from Katie—"

"Who was told by Angelina that—"

"— Yes. I told Angelina quit the Quidditch team." I gave them a wary look. "Are you here to try to convince me to rejoin? The answer's 'no', by the way."

"Nothing of the sort!" They chorused, before Fred continued. "While it is truly regrettable that our star Seeker is no longer with us—"

"— Bless his soul! He was one of a kind, that one! I'll miss him." George pretended to weep loudly.

"We understand." Fred said, giving me a knowing look. "To be honest, we could've chosen to not attend Hogwarts for our Seventh year."

"Really?" That was news to me. "How does that work?"

"Does ickle Potter not know how the system works?" George lightly taunted, a smirk plastered on his face.

"You only really need your OWLs to be ready for what's out there, mate." Fred informed me. "While it won't get you a high paying job, you can still find work."

"So I'm guessing it's your NEWTs that let you get the really good jobs?" I wondered out loud. Fred gave an affirmative nod.

"Indeed. Though you can still do well for yourself with just the OWLs, _partner_." George smiled, hinting at the joke shop.

"That.. sounds like a nice plan." I said, a little touched at the offer. "Thanks, you two. I might just take you up on it."

"No problem... Who are you again?" Fred said, giving me a faux-confused look.

"Just a nameless stranger." I grinned.

"Well nameless stranger, it was nice meeting you— but we must be off!" And with that, the two devils left the Great Hall. I shook my head in amusement at their antics.

At least _something_ was good about this day.

"Mr. Potter." The stern voice of Professor McGonagall reached my ears. I turned to see her glaring at me.

Spoke too soon. This day was going to be shitty.

"Follow me." She didn't even ask if I was finished eating, and made to leave the Great Hall, expecting me to follow her, no doubt. I glanced in Hermione's direction, seeing her look at me guiltily. Tattled, did she?

"I don't have time for this shit." I grumbled, before complying. The trip to Professor McGonagall's office was eerily silent, and tense. I already knew what she was going to tell me. We walked through the halls at a brisk pace, passing students who were— as usual— whispering amongst themselves.

She opened the door, and I followed her inside, stiffly taking my seat. She sat behind her desk, heavily frowning at me. I returned the gaze with a fair measure of contempt.

"Is something the matter, Professor?" I asked her outright.

Her lips pursed in response. "Mr. Potter. I've had some disquieting news pertaining to you from Ms. Granger."

"What kind of news?" I played dumb, though inside I was angry at the confirmation of Hermione's betrayal.

"Ms. Granger has told me that you have not been attending your History and Divination classes since the beginning of the school year." Professor McGonagall began. "I have checked with the corresponding professors, and they have confirmed this. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Well," I said. "Yes. I skipped them. Why shouldn't I? They're a waste of my time."

"Waste of your time or not," The old witch retorted almost angrily. "You must attend your classes, Potter. This is non-negotiable."

"That's nice."

"Five points for cheek." She said sternly, before continuing. "You will have detention for the next two weeks, and another fifty points taken from Gryffindor for your appalling actions."

"Detention?" I gave her an annoyed look. That would cut into my training time.

"Yes, Mr. Potter." She confirmed gravely. "Misbehavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

"That's all well and good." I said in return. "But I'm not going."

"...What?"

"You heard me, loud and clear, Professor." I stood up, and made to leave. "I'm not going to waste any more time than I have to on this crap."

"Mr. Potter!" I ignored her indignant shout.

I reached the door, but it abruptly shut in my face, locking itself with a clicking noise. I turned to see McGonagall with her wand out, giving me an exasperated look.

"You will attend your detentions, Mr. Potter, even if I have to escort you there, myself!" She snapped, staring me down like a hawk, but I was past such pathetic stares. I faced Voldemort himself; McGonagall was nothing in comparison.

"You think you can force me to go?" I challenged, anger seeping in my tone. Didn't she understand that I had bigger things to concern myself with?

"If I must, yes." McGonagall said, standing up.

"I'd like to see you try." I said, and called my lightning forth, shaping it just like I practiced in the days before. The lightning quickly formed into a furiously spinning drill, filling the room with the hum of its power. I knew I wasn't thinking straight, but I couldn't care at the moment. She was getting in my way, and I didn't like those that impeded my progress. Not. One. Bit.

The air grew thick with a strange pressure. McGonagall was beginning to look at me warily.

We stared each other down for the longest time, before she finally relented with a resigned sigh. She waved her wand and the lock clicked open. I reined myself in, the lightning fading from my hand with a small shock wave as as I clenched my fist. The strange pressure disappeared.

"Don't get in my way, ever again." I threw in, before leaving.

I didn't even wait for her to say anything, choosing to run as fast as my feet could take me. I ran, I ran, and I ran some more.

Why didn't they understand? Angelina, Hermione, McGonagall. Why couldn't they just accept that this was necessary? I ran faster, ignoring all the looks I was getting from other students.

Did they think I wanted to live like this? Did they think I wanted to constantly train? Did they think that I enjoyed living my life in fear, always wondering if my skills would be enough for the next confrontation?

Hermione's idiotic ideas could go fuck themselves for all I cared right now. Maybe _she_ needs the OWLs to do well in the real world, but I've already got plenty of money; enough money to last me dozens of lifetimes!

And if that didn't work, I had the Weasley twins backing me up.

Quidditch could go and hang itself. Politeness and propriety in school were a waste of my time. Most of the classes were a waste of my time, as well.

I finally stopped running, and sank to my knees, taking deep breaths. I looked around, recognizing my surroundings.

Why did I come here, of all places?

A giggle grabbed my attention. I turned to see an all too familiar ghost.

"Hello, Myrtle. How are you?"

"You came to visit!" She looked ecstatic. "Just like you said you would."

I remembered some halfhearted promise I made last year, when I figured out the egg's clue for the Second Task. I _had_ promised to visit, hadn't I?

"Yeah, I always keep my promises." Even if accidentally, but she didn't need to know that, eh? I took a few more steadying breaths. How long did I run? I checked my watch. It'd been thirty minutes since I left the Great Hall with McGonagall. The confrontation we had was around two minutes at best.

So, I've been running for around twenty minutes...

I stared at my surroundings, once more. I remembered how we brewed Polyjuice Potion to spy on Malfoy. Hermione— I stopped my thoughts right there, not wanting to get angry again. I stared at a seemingly inconspicuous sink. The very same sink which opened up the Chamber of Secrets.

 _§Open.§_ I hissed out in Parseltongue. The tap glowed white, as the sink sank— amusing— showing the entrance to the Chamber.

Ignoring Myrtle's mindless chatter, I jumped down the hole, feeling the adrenaline rush as I twisted and turned along the pipe's path, thoroughly enjoying the ride. My furious anger simmered down as I reached the bottom with a thud.

I got to my feet and marched forward, looking around, recognizing the small path in the giant rubble caused by old Lockhart's attempt at erasing our memories.

I pulled out my wand, and cast the Reductor Curse over and over, until the rubble turned to nothing but fine mist. Satisfied, I delved deeper and deeper into the Chamber, stopping for a moment to cover my face when the smell of rotten flesh wafted in my nose.

I forced myself not to retch as I got closer and closer to the source; the giant basilisk that I'd killed with nothing but a sword. It looked almost just like I remembered it, if a little bit holey. The dead basilisk was surrounding by other, much smaller, dead animals.

I could only assume they tried to feast on it, and died from food poisoning. Even the rotting process was bound to take quite some time, as the bacteria would have to overpower the basilisk's poisonous nature. I stared at the gigantic snake for a while longer, getting lost in memories.

I remembered how Riddle had set this thing on me, and the ensuing struggle to stay alive. Being injected with both basilisk venom and phoenix tears was very peculiar.

However, was that the only danger lurking around here?

This place was the Chamber of _Secrets_. The only secret here seemed to be a millennium old monster. That sounded very lackluster, though. Wasn't Salazar Slytherin supposed to be one of the most powerful and influential wizards of his time?

I found it hard to believe that he would simply put a basilisk as the only form of protection, especially since it had glaring weaknesses such as the crowing of a rooster.

Maybe he didn't get to add anything else before he died? Or did Voldemort already figure out what the other secrets of this place were?

Or maybe there was nothing else here, I mused wryly. Why did I even come down here?

~ _The Orb..._ ~

What was that? I whirled around. There was no one. Was I imagining it? I turned to look at the basilisk, noticing that part of it was glowing.

~ _Take the Orb, hatchling..._ ~

"That voice again.." I looked around, still seeing no one. Someone— or something— was here, watching me. Talking to me.

I glanced back at the basilisk, whose belly was glowing a bright silver. I cut through its thick hide with constant use of the Severing Charm. After I got all the annoying poisonous flesh out of the way, I noticed something quite peculiar.

A sphere, about the size of a marble, floated in midair, untouched by any of the flesh around it. I carefully reached in there to grab it, making sure to avoid touching the dead, rotting flesh with my bare skin. Who knew what could happen?

I held it gingerly in the palm of my hand. What was this doing in the stomach of a basilisk? The orb seemed to seep into my flesh, perfectly melding with it. I was too late to stop it.

Before I could chastise myself for being so _stupid_ , images rushed to the forefront of my mind. Images of humans, demons and angels, locked in endless battle. Images of an ominous castle in a perpetually dark world. Images of a majestic fortress in the skies. Images of a dark, bottomless pit at the center of the world.

The images disappeared as soon as they came.

"What the hell...?"

~ _I have done all I can..._ ~ The voice said again, before growing silent.

"Done what? Who are you?" I called out, hearing my voice echo.

No answer came.

"Who were those people?" I wondered out loud.

"What..." I backed away, trying to make sense of what I'd seen. The images were jarring, and unlike anything I'd ever seen or imagined before.

I felt like I'd stumbled into a entirely different world. Why was this in a basilisk's stomach? Did Slytherin put it there? What did Slytherin know about this? Where did he even get it? Were those really angels and demons? Who was talking to me, just now?

What had I gotten myself into _this_ time?

"This was a mistake." I finally said, before hurriedly leaving the Chamber. The trip back out was fairly easy; I charmed my clothes to carry me up the pipe. It was slower than I was hoping, but I eventually made it to the Second Floor girls' bathroom, quickly closing the entrance.

Myrtle was not here, for once.

I figured I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and promptly made my way to the Gryffindor common rooms. I ignored Hermione's attempt at approaching me, going straight to the boy's dormitories. Suppressing my anger at the bushy haired girl, I instead focused on what I'd learned down in the Chamber.

The images were starting to make a little more sense than before. They even seemed slightly familiar to me. I'd seen something like this before, but where?

I heard the door open, but didn't turn to see who it was.

"No, Ron." I said before the boy could say anything. "Hermione was behind all this trouble, and I don't feel in a very forgiving mood right now. Not after what she did."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's voice made me shift in surprise. I turned to see the old wizard standing in the doorway, twinkling eyes gazing upon me. "I am sad to say that I am not Mr. Weasley."

I scratched the back of my head in embarrassment. I hadn't expected Dumbledore to intervene.

"Heh. Sorry about that. Hermione's attitude has been getting on my nerves, as of late."

"Indeed." The old man sat on a nearby bed. "I have been informed by Professor McGonagall that you have not been attending your classes. She seemed quite distressed, and— dare I say— worried about you."

"That's definitely true. I've been putting all my efforts in my training, instead." I explained curtly, ignoring the feeling of guilt seeping into me. McGonagall was worried about me? Why should she be?

"I am well aware of your training, Harry." The man said with a look of wry amusement. "Some of our resident portraits were disturbed at the loud noises of senseless destruction emanating from one of our unused classrooms."

I snorted at that. I did tend to go overboard on the furniture, didn't I? It made for good anger management, after all.

"So are you here to try to convince me to go back?"

"Goodness, no." The old man exclaimed, a flash of horror appearing on his face. Where did _that_ come from?

"I have been one of the few who have faced your mother's stubborn streak, as well as her wrath." Dumbledore explained, almost shuddering at the very mention of Lily Potter's wrath.

If she had one of the most powerful wizards in the world wincing in fear— much like how people feared Voldemort, actually— then her anger must have truly been legendary.

"I will not force you to attend your classes, Harry." The venerable wizard said patiently. "I have, perhaps rightfully so, assumed that you find your OWL scores meaningless due to your families' wealth and the growing influence of Lord Voldemort. Am I correct in doing so?"

"That's more or less it." I confirmed without a hint of shame. "My education can wait until after the war, as far as I'm concerned. I will dedicate my time to mastering any offensive and defensive magic I can get my hands on, instead."

"Ah, I see." The old man gave me a long, steady look.

"Perhaps I shall assign you a few detentions— which I will oversee." Professor Dumbledore interrupted whatever I was about to say. "To make sure you learn these _lessons_ ; you understand."

So, unless I was horribly wrong, Dumbledore just offered to teach me magic.

Neat.

I wondered if I should tell him about my foray into the Chamber of Secrets.

...I'll do it later.

You know what they say: 'procrastination makes perfect'.


End file.
